Hrozný and Hittite - The First Hundred Years-Brill (2019)

Hrozný and Hittite: The First Hundred Years
Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

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Culture and History of the
Ancient Near East
Founding Editor
M.H.E. Weippert
Editor-in-Chief
Jonathan Stökl
Editors
Eckart Frahm
W. Randall Garr
B. Halpern
Theo P.J. van den Hout
Leslie Anne Warden
Irene J. Winter
volume 107
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/chan

Hrozný and Hittite
The First Hundred Years
Proceedings of the International Conference Held at
Charles University, Prague, 11–14 November 2015
Edited by
Ronald I. Kim
Jana Mynářová
Peter Pavúk
leiden | boston

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Kim, Ronald I., editor. | Mynářová, Jana, editor. | Pavúk,

Peter, editor.
Title: Hrozný and Hittite : the first hundred years : proceedings of the
International Conference held at Charles University, Prague, 11-14
November 2015 / edited by Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, Peter Pavúk.
Other titles: Culture and history of the ancient Near East ; v. 107.
1566-2055
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Series: Culture and history
of the ancient Near East, 1566-2055; volume 107 | Includes
bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This volume collects
33 papers that were presented at the international conference held at
the Faculty of Arts, Charles University in November 2015 to celebrate
the centenary of Bedřich Hrozný’s identification of Hittite as an
Indo-European language. Contributions are grouped into three sections,
“Hrozný and His Discoveries,” “Hittite and Indo-European,” and “The
Hittites and Their Neighbors,” and span the full range of Hittite
studies and related disciplines, from \ and Indo-European
linguistics and cuneiform philology to Ancient Near Eastern archaeology,
history, and religion. The authors hail from 15 countries and include
leading figures as well as emerging scholars in the fields of
Hittitology, Indo-European, and Ancient Near Eastern studies”-- Provided
by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019030332 (print) | LCCN 2019030333 (ebook) | ISBN
9789004413115 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004413122 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Hrozný, Bedřich, 1879-1952--Congresses. | Hittite
language--Congresses. | Hittites--Congresses.
Classification: LCC P945 .H76 2020 (print) | LCC P945 (ebook) | DDC
491/.998--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019030332
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019030333
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Contents
Abbreviations ix
Introduction 1
Part 1
Hrozný and His Discoveries
1 Hrozný’s Excavations at Kültepe and the Resurrection of a Bronze Age

Palace 5
Gojko Barjamovic
2 Hrozný’s Excavations, 1924–1925: Sheikh Sa’ad, Tell Erfad 32

Jan Bouzek
3 Hrozný and the Decipherment of Hieroglyphic Luwian 44

J.D. Hawkins
4 Bedřich Hrozný and the Aegean Writing Systems: An Early

Decipherment Attempt 62
Artemis Karnava
5 A Fruitful Collaboration between E. Sellin and B. Hrozný during His

Viennese Years: The Cuneiform Texts from Tell Taanach and Their
Impact on Syro-Levantine Studies 78
Regine Pruzsinszky
Part 2
Hittite and Indo-European
6 Consonant Clusters, Defective Notation of Vowels and Syllable Structure

in Caromemphite 95
Ignasi-Xavier Adiego
7 Tagging and Searching the Hittite Corpus 120

Dita Frantíková

vi Contents
8 The Phonetics and Phonology of the Hittite Dental Stops 147

Alwin Kloekhorst
9 Über die hethitische 3. Sg. Präsens auf -ia-Iz-zi 176

Martin Joachim Kümmel
10 The Word for Wine in Anatolian, Greek, Armenian, Italic, Etruscan,

Semitic and Its Indo-European Origin 195
Reiner Lipp
11 Satzanfänge im Hethitischen 230
Rosemarie Lühr
12 Hittite Historical Phonology after 100 Years (and after

20 Years) 258
H. Craig Melchert
13 duttarii̯ata/i- and Some Other Indo-European

MUNUS/f
Maidens 277
Veronika Milanova
14 One Century of Heteroclitic Inflection 295

Georges-Jean Pinault
15 From Experiential Contact to Abstract Thought: Reflections on Some

Hittite Outcomes of PIE *steh2- ‘to stand’ and *men- ‘to think’ 317
Marianna Pozza
16 Hittite Syntax 100 Years Later: The Case of Hittite Indefinite

Pronouns 335
Andrei V. Sideltsev
17 Das unerwartete in der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung

hethitischer Wörter 354
Zsolt Simon
18 The Personal Deictic Function of Hittite kāša, kāšma and kāšat(t)a:

Further Evidence from the Texts 365
Charles W. Steitler

Contents vii
19 Lycian Erimñnuha 382
Jan Tavernier
20 The Indo-European Feminine, the Neuter, and the Diagnostic Value of

the τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule in Greek and Anatolian 396
Annette Teffeteller
21 Sidetisch – Ein Update zu Schrift und Sprache 416

Christian Zinko and Michaela Zinko
Part 3
The Hittites and Their Neighbors
22 The LÚ.MEŠ SAG and Their Rise to Prominence 435

Tayfun Bilgin
23 Virginity in Hittite Ritual 455

Billie Jean Collins
24 Venus in Furs: Sappho fr. 101 Voigt between East and West 469
Alexander Dale
25 A Problem of Meaning: Variations in Hittite Landscape as Narrated in

the Sun-God’s mugawar (CTH 323) 484
Romina Della Casa
26 „Fehler“ und Fehlschreibungen in hethitischen Texten 499

Susanne Görke
27 Personennamen der hethitischen Großreichszeit als Quellen religiöser

Verhältnisse 506
Manfred Hutter
28 Die Gottheit Nikarawa in Karkamiš 518

Sylvia Hutter-Braunsar
29 From Nerik to Emar 531

Patrick M. Michel

viii Contents
30 The Last Foothold of Arzawa: The Location of Puranda and Mount

Arinnanda Revisited 544
Rostislav Oreshko
31 Phrygia and the Near East 571

Maya Vassileva
32 The Disappearance of Telipinu in the Context of Indo-European

Myth 583
Roger D. Woodard
33 Foreign Medical Knowledge in Ḫattuša: The Transmission and

Reception of Mesopotamian Therapeutic Texts in the Hittite
World 603
Valeria Zubieta Lupo
Word Index 619
Index of Modern Names 649
Index of Historical and Mythological Names 657
Index of Text Passages 661
Index of Place Names 669
Subject Index 673

Abbreviations
Reference Works
CHD Güterbock, H.G., Hoffner, H.A. and van den Hout, Th. P.J. (eds.) (1983– )
The Hittite Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chica-
go, Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.
CHT Laroche, E. (1971) Catalogue des textes hittites, Paris: Klincksieck.
EIEC Mallory, J.P. and Adams, D.Q. (1997) Encyclopedia of Indo-European Cul-
ture, London: Fitzroy Dearborn.
HED Puhvel, J. (1984– ) Hittite Etymological Dictionary, Berlin, New York:
Mouton de Gruyter.
HEG Tischler, J. (1983– ) Hethitisches etymologisches Glossar, mit Beiträgen
von Günter Neumann [IBS 20], Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachwissen-
schaft der Universität Innsbruck.
HHw Tischler, J. (2008) Hethitisches Handwörterbuch mit dem Wortschatz der
Nachbarsprachen [IBS 128], Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachen und Litera-
turen der Universität Innsbruck.
HW Friedrich, J. (1952) Hethitisches Wörterbuch. Kurzgefasste kritische Samm
lung der Deutungen hethitischer Wörter, Heidelberg: Winter (Ergän-
zungshefte [1, 1957; 2, 1961; 3, 1966]).
HW 2 Friedrich, J. and Kammenhuber, A. (1975ff.) Hethitisches Wörterbuch, 2.
völlig neubearbeitete Auflage, Heidelberg: Winter.
IEW Pokorny, J. (1959) Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, Bern:
Francke (3rd ed. Tübingen, Basel: Francke, 1994).
LIV2 Rix, H. et al. (2001) Lexikon der indogermanischen Verben. Die Wurzeln
und ihre Primärstammbildungen. Zweite, erweiterte und verbesserte Auf
lage bearbeitet von Martin Kümmel und Helmut Rix, Wiesbaden: Reichert
(2nd ed.).
NIL Wodtko, D.S., Irslinger, B. and Schneider, C. (2008) Nomina im indoger-
manischen Lexikon, Heidelberg: Winter.
RE Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Neue
Bearbeitung, Stuttgart: Metzler (1893–1980).
RlA Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie, Berlin:
de Gruyter.
Series
AnOr Analecta Orientalia (Roma)

AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament (Münster)
x Abbreviations
AS Assyriological Studies (Chicago)

BAR British Archaeological Reports (Oxford)
BIAA British Institute of Archaeology in Ankara (London)
BoSt Boghazköi-Studien (Leipzig)
BSIELL Brill’s Studies in Indo-European Languages & Linguistics (Leiden)
CHANE Culture and History of the Ancient Near East (Leiden)
DBH Dresdner Beiträge zur Hethitologie (Wiesbaden)
DMOA Documenta et Monumenta Orientis Antiqui (Leiden)
HdO Handbuch der Orientalistik = Handbook of Oriental Studies (Leiden)
HSS Harvard Semitic Studies (Cambridge, MA)
IBK Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft (Innsbruck)
IBS Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Sprachwissenschaft (Innsbruck)
KBo Keilschrifttexte aus Boghazköi (Leipzig, Berlin, 1916–2015)
KUB Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi (Berlin, 1921–1990)
LIEEDS Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series (Leiden)
LSIE Leiden Studies in Indo-European (Amsterdam)
MAOG Mitteilungen der Altorientalischen Gesellschaft (Leipzig)
MVAeG Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatisch-Ägyptischen Gesellschaft (Leipzig)
OIMP Oriental Institute Museum Publications (Chicago)
OIP Oriental Institute Publications (Chicago)
PIHANS Publications de l’Institut historique-archéologique néerlandais de
Stamboul = Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archeologisch In-
stituut te Istanbul
RGTC Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes (Wiesbaden)
SANER Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Records (Berlin)
SAOC Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization (Chicago)
SSGL Studies in Slavic and General Linguistics (Amsterdam)
SSLL Studies in Semitic Languages and Linguistics (Leiden)
StBoT Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texten (Wiesbaden)
TAVO Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients (Wiesbaden)
THeth Texte der Hethiter (Heidelberg)
UISK Untersuchungen zur indogermanischen Sprach- und Kulturwissen-
schaft / Studies in Indo-European Language and Culture (Berlin)
WAW Writings from the Ancient World (Atlanta)
Journals
AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research

ABSA Annual of the British School at Athens

Abbreviations xi
AfO Archiv für Orientforschung

AION Annali dell’Istituto Orientale di Napoli
AJA American Journal of Archaeology
AJP American Journal of Philology
AnSt Anatolian Studies
AO Archiv Orientální
AoF Altorientalische Forschungen
AuOr Aula Orientalis
BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research
BaM Baghdader Mitteilungen
BB Beiträge zur Kunde der indogermanischen Sprachen (Bezzenbergers
Beiträge)
BiOr Bibliotheca Orientalis
BSL Bulletin de la Société de Linguistique de Paris
BSOAS Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies
ClAnt Classical Antiquity
CRAIBL Comptes Rendus des Séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-
Lettres
FoL Folia Linguistica
GM Göttinger Miszellen
HS Historische Sprachforschung
HSCP Harvard Studies in Classical Philology
IF Indogermanische Forschungen
IncLing Incontri Linguistici
IstMitt Istanbuler Mitteilungen
JAC Journal of Ancient Civilizations
JANEH Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History
JANER Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions
JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society
JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies
JEOL Jaarbericht Ex Oriente Lux
JHS Journal of Hellenic Studies
JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies
JNSL Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages
JRAS Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society
JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament
JSS Journal of Semitic Studies
MDOG Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft
MSS Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft
N.A.B.U. Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires

xii Abbreviations
OA Oriens Antiquus
RA Revue d’Assyriologie et d’Archéologie Orientale
RANLmor Rendiconti dell’Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Classe di scienze morali,
storiche e filologiche
REA Revue des Études Anciennes
RHA Revue Hittite et Asianique
RSO Rivista degli Studi Orientali
SEL Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici
SMEA Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici
SSL Studi e Saggi Linguistici
TIES Tocharian and Indo-European Studies
TPhS Transactions of the Philological Society
TSBA Transactions of the Society of Biblical Archaeology
WdO Die Welt des Orients
ZA Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Verwandte Gebiete
ZABR Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte / Journal
for Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical Law
ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft
ZDPV Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins
ZOrA Zeitschrift für Orient-Archäologie
ZVS Zeitschrift für Vergleichende Sprachforschung
Languages
Alb. Albanian
Arm. Armenian
Av. Avestan
CLuw./Luv. Cuneiform Luwian/Luvian
CS Church Slavonic
Engl. English
Fr. French
Germ. German
Goth. Gothic
Gr. Greek
HLuw./Luv. Hieroglyphic Luwian/Luvian
Hitt. Hittite
It. Italian
Lat. Latin
Latv. Latvian

Abbreviations xiii
Lith. Lithuanian
Lyc. Lycian
Lyd. Lydian
MH Middle Hittite
MS Middle Hittite script
NH Neo-Hittite
(N)Pers. New Persian
NS Neo-Hittite script
OCS Old Church Slavonic
OE Old English
OH Old Hittite
OHG Old High German
OIr. Old Irish
OLith. Old Lithuanian
ON Old Norse
OPers. Old Persian
OPrus. Old Prussian
ORus. Old Russian
OSax. Old Saxon
OS Old Hittite script
Osc. Oscan
Pal. Palaic
PIE Proto-Indo-European
Rus. Russian
Skt. Sanskrit
Sp. Spanish
Toch. Tocharian
Umbr. Umbrian
Ved. Vedic

Introduction
Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová and Peter Pavúk
In December 1915, a 36-year-old Czech librarian at the University of Vienna by

the name of Bedřich Hrozný published an article in the Mitteilungen der
Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft titled “Die Lösung des hethitischen Problems”, in
which he identified Hittite as an Indo-European language. Despite initial skep-
ticism, Hrozný’s claim, followed by his 1917 monograph Die Sprache der Heth-
iter, soon won universal acceptance and launched Hittitology as a new branch
of Indo-European philology and Ancient Near Eastern studies. Hrozný went on
to be appointed Professor at Charles University upon the independence of
Czechoslovakia in 1918 and remained there for the rest of his career, briefly
serving as Rector in 1939. Yet for all the recognition he enjoyed in his lifetime,
he could scarcely have imagined that the centennial of his momentous discov-
ery would be celebrated with multiple international conferences.
From November 11 to 14, 2015, scholars from 22 countries gathered in Prague
for a conference entitled “Hrozný and Hittite: The First Hundred Years”, orga-
nized by the Institute of Comparative Linguistics (the successor to the Insti-
tute for Cuneiform Studies, founded by Hrozný himself), Institute of Classical
Archaeology, and Czech Institute of Egyptology of the Faculty of Arts, Charles
University, in collaboration with the Oriental Institute of the Czech Academy
of Sciences. The participants included specialists in Hittite language, litera-
ture, history, and religion, as well as Anatolian and Indo-European historical-
comparative linguistics and Ancient Near Eastern history and archaeology. We
were honored to be able to host not only leading authorities in those fields, but
also numerous younger researchers and doctoral students, a sure sign that Hit-
tite studies remains as vital as ever at the beginning of its second century.
The volume is made up of 33 contributions, divided into three thematic sec-
tions. The first, “Hrozný and His Discoveries”, contains five papers which docu-
ment and evaluate Hrozný’s activities in the excavation of sites in Anatolia
(Kültepe) and Syria (Sheikh Saʿad, Tell Erfad), his pioneering research on the
cuneiform texts from Tell Taʿanach, and his significant, if long downplayed role
in the decipherment of Hieroglyphic Luwian and rather less successful at-
tempt at deciphering the Aegean writing systems. The second section, “Hittite
and Indo-European”, consists of 16 studies on all aspects of Hittite synchronic
and diachronic linguistics, including phonology, morphology, syntax, seman-
tics, pragmatics, and etymology. Several papers are devoted to other members
of the Anatolian branch such as Lycian, Carian, and Sidetic, while others focus
© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��20 | doi:10.1163/9789004413122_002

2 Kim, Mynářová and Pavúk
on problems of Indo-European historical-comparative grammar in which Hit-

tite evidence plays a central role. The last section, “The Hittites and Their
Neighbors”, presents 12 studies on diverse aspects of Hittite philology, religion,
and mythology in the context of contacts with neighboring peoples of ancient
Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and the Aegean. A recurring theme in many of these
articles is the unique and complex combination of Indo-European inheri-
tance and Near Eastern influences that characterizes all aspects of Hittite
civilization.
We would like to express our gratitude once again to the Faculty of Arts,
Charles University and the Czech Academy of Sciences for their financial and
logistical support, without which we could never have imagined organizing an
event on this scale. Petr Zemánek and Dita Frantíková provided invaluable as-
sistance at all stages, the former in particular with the preparations for the
conference, the latter with the editing of several papers. Student volunteers
from the Institute of Comparative Linguistics and Czech Institute of Egyptol-
ogy ran the registration and book displays, coordinated handouts, assisted
with problems both technical and mundane, and in general ensured that ev-
erything ran as smoothly as possible. Martin Gális painstakingly compiled the
first draft of the indices. Finally, we wish to thank the anonymous reviewers for
their many helpful criticisms, which have greatly improved the volume, and
our editors at Brill, Katelyn Chin, Erika Mandarino, and Kayla Griffin, for their
efficiency and expertise in bringing the entire project to fruition.
The following contributions illustrate the flourishing progress of Hittite
studies a century after 1915 and attest to the enduring legacy of Hrozný’s
achievement. It is our hope that they will be consulted with profit by special-
ists from a wide range of disciplines, and thereby further the remarkable spirit
of interdisciplinary and international cooperation which Hrozný himself so
embodied.

Part 1
Hrozný and His Discoveries

Chapter 1
Hrozný’s Excavations at Kültepe and the

Resurrection of a Bronze Age Palace
Gojko Barjamovic
Abstract
Few scholars have been as important as Bedřich Hrozný in bringing ancient Hittite
culture to light after three millennia in oblivion. His contribution to the decipherment
of the Hittite language is widely celebrated. His archaeological mission to the site of
Kültepe in 1925, on the other hand—partly because it was never properly published—
now tends to be dismissed as second-rate work. Although there can be no doubt that
Hrozný’s enthusiasm as an archaeologist did not compensate for his lack of expertise,
it is upon reexamination of his data possible to extract important information from his
work that can add to the results obtained by others. This article reviews the results of
his soundings on the mound of Kültepe and connects them to the earlier and later ex-
cavations conducted by Ernest Chantre and Tahsin Özgüç. This leads to a proposal for
a reconstructed plan of the Warshama Palace in its entirety.
Keywords
Kültepe – Acemhöyük – Hrozný – Anatolia – Minoan – Middle Bronze Age – Old

Assyrian – history of archaeology – early Turkish Republic – Bronze Age palaces
When Bedřich Hrozný arrived at Kültepe, he was the third scholar to initiate
excavations there. His main reason for coming to Central Turkey was his hope
to pin down the find spot of the so-called “Cappadocian tablets” written in an
archaic dialect of the Assyrian language, which had been coming out of the
Kayseri area for more than half a century.1 Through those texts, he hoped to
1 A preliminary report of the excavations appeared in Hrozný 1927 alongside a few popular ac-
counts for the press (cf. the bibliography provided by Adamčík 2013), and a short summary was
published in Hrozný 1952. For two biting critiques of his work, see T. Özgüç 1999: 74–75 and
Larsen 2015: 19–22. Critical reactions among Turkish archaeologists were almost immediate,

6 Barjamovic
trace the roots of Hittite history and society, thus continuing the work initiated
by his decipherment of their language a decade earlier. Ernest Chantre had
previously conducted two seasons of excavations at Kültepe in 1893 and 1894,
and Hugo Winckler and Hugo Grothe had spent a few days there in 1906. The
source of the tablets had eluded both teams, and there was still no definite
proof that they came from the site.
Winckler somewhat cantankerously noted that the places where the clay
tablets were being found had in fact been roughly pointed out to him, but that
he found the accuracy of the information doubtful, seeing as the individuals
who had the benefit of the discoveries would not be inclined to give away any-
thing that offered them an economic advantage. The archaeological potential
of the mound was also viewed with skepticism by Winckler, who left—
apparently disillusioned—after just eight days of laying out test trenches, stat-
ing that: “Wie bereits von Chantre geschildert, ist es kaum möglich, in dem aus
reinen Erdmassen bestehenden Hügel … bestimmte Schichten festzustellen.
Es ist alles durcheinander gesunken.”2
Chantre had in fact achieved some success during his longer sojourn at the
mound, proving not only the antiquity of the site and its probable identity as
the source of the “Cappadocian tablets,” but also by publishing a volume—
reasonably solid for its day—with a chapter devoted to his work at Kültepe
that contains descriptions, plans and drawings resulting from this work.3 Upon
his arrival in Kayseri in May 1893, Chantre had initially been denied even the
most basic information about the location of the mound, which he had been
told in Constantinople (now İstanbul) was the origin of the cuneiform tablets.
He had in the end been given directions by the priors of the convent of Surb
cf. e.g. the scathing comment offered by Remzi Oğuz [Arık] 1933: 23 “kıymetli lisan âlimi
Çekoslovak Hrozny’nin—Şlimanın hafriyatından farksız ve Hashöyük’teki araştırmalar
kadar arkeolojiye zararlı” (i.e. that Hrozný’s excavations were indistinguishable from those of
Schliemann, and as destructive as those at Hashöyük).
2 Winckler 1906: 634.
3 Chantre 1898. See also the review by Crowfoot (1899), which shows the importance of Chant-
re’s finds in contemporary scholarship. Note the brief news piece in olz 3 (1900/Juli), p. 273
about villagers mining the mound at Kültepe for fertilizer and finding large stone walls made
of volcanic tuff in which the individual stones were kept together by iron clamps and looked
as if they formed part of a temple temenos. It also mentions the existence of a stone inscrip-
tion in Greek (possibly Kt 99, purchased and later published in von der Osten et al. 1933:
89–90), a terracotta model showing a divine procession, and some cuneiform tablets (called
“bricks” by the author). Presumably the local excavations took place during the years be-
tween Chantre’s visits in 1893–1894 and that of V. Waldemar Belck and C. Lehmann-Haupt in
1901. Excavations had clearly gone on at the mound for much longer, since the late Hellenistic
bronze tablet coming from the site had been sold to Berlin in 1890 (cf. Robert 1963; Barjamovic
2015a).

Resurrecting a Bronze Age Palace at Kültepe 7
Karapet, who controlled most of the land in the valley with the exception of
the village of Karahöyük, located at the foot of the mound.
Having spent a long time searching for the site and in order not to waste any
time in clearing new areas, Chantre began his excavations at points that had
previously been dug by the villagers for fertilizer as well as treasure. With only
fifteen workers, wooden shovels, and poor pickaxes at his disposal, and work-
ing out of the nearby monastery against the wishes of the local village, Chant-
re’s first season of work was still successful in gathering a number of objects
and proving the multi-period nature of the site. Deeper excavations had to wait
until the following year, when Chantre returned with tools and wheelbarrows
from Europe and employed a total of almost one hundred local workmen at
the site.
According to his report, Chantre cleared up the vertical cuts that had been
made by the locals in the eastern and southern parts of the mound. Entire
“halls” 50 to 60 meters wide had been dug into the mound at numerous points,
exposing cuts of several meters in height. He dedicated two squads of workers
to the task of clearing those cuts, while two different groups were occupied in
opening trenches at other points to find “the order of the superposition of de-
posits.” Unfortunately, Chantre lacked the skills to handle the highly complex
stratigraphy of the mound, which causes great difficulties even to this day, and
so his cuts revealed to him only “the rubble of various ages, offering just super-
positions of debris in the most indescribable mess.”4
During his 1894 season, Chantre opened a total of six trenches—12 to 15 m
long and 4 to 5 m wide—in the center and western parts of the mound, some
of them up to 17 m deep. All he could distinguish were parts of “shapeless walls,
and objects of all kinds in the same disorder as what had been discovered in
the cuts made on the southern edge,” built as “mud brick walls on stone foun-
dations.” The trenches he opened on the perimeter of the mound revealed
much more substantial bastioned walls enclosing the site, some of them still
visible to this day from the visitor’s parking lot on the western side of the
mound. The locals referred to the point where the main path enters the mound
as the “city gate,” and Chantre surmised that succeeding archaeologists, “more
fortunate than I, will return some day to my excavations and discover the doors
of these walls, the walls themselves, and all the buildings that must have
existed for a city of this size.” That process is still ongoing a century later.
Chantre was aware that the highest point of the mound, where Hrozný was
later to conduct his excavation, was likely to represent the main structure of
the city. He noted that “substantial walls of the citadel remains are still to be
4 Chantre 1898: 74.

8 Barjamovic
found on several other points on the mound. The largest mass is located on its
central part, and forms a sort of prominence that reminds one of the ruins of a
building that was to dominate the whole city. It is, according to the people of
Kara-Eyuk, the location of the palace, and it is here that one must discover
treasures! My excavations, which began at this prominence on its northwest
side, and went down to a depth of nine meters, showed an accumulation of
debris up to four meters. At this level, we began to find wall sections of two
meters thick on average, which can be attributed to buildings without, how-
ever, us being able to discern the shape of the building to which they belonged.”5
What Chantre had come upon was presumably the same gigantic palatial
structure that Hrozný and Tahsin Özgüç would dig after him, although the ex-
act location of his sounding is unclear. An attempt to reconcile Chantre’s map
with a satellite image of the site shown on Fig. 1.1 does not pin down the places
where he worked. He may have come down into the middle of the structure, or
he may have missed it altogether. Regardless, he does not seem to have dam-
aged the building too much for Özgüç to still be able to discern its general
layout.
The monumental size of the mound, the palace, and the complexity of the
stratigraphy proved too much for Chantre. In the end, he left little actual data
to help Hrozný get a sense of the chronology and nature of the site. In fact,
Chantre still knew so little about site formation that he surmised that the
mound itself and the abovementioned four meters of debris, which consisted
mainly of ash, charred wood and vitrified mud brick, had to have been caused
by volcanic eruption. He supposed that the mound itself could have been
formed as a small outlet of the nearby Erciyes Dağ that had lifted up the re-
mains of Kültepe, but never broken into actual eruption. Needless to say, we
now know that his theory had no merit, but it does still warrant mention due
to the fact that it was the Stand der Forschung when Hrozný came to the site.
In addition to the problems caused by his predecessor’s inability to handle
the magnitude of the excavation, the period immediately following the Great
War was a highly tumultuous time to work as an archaeologist. Hrozný’s na-
tive state of Czechoslovakia was just seven years old when the expedition
departed, and the Ottoman Empire where Kültepe was located had collapsed
less than a decade earlier. Only four years prior to Hrozný’s arrival, there had
been a Greek army of 125,000 men standing 50 km west of the new state capi-
tal at Angora (today Ankara).6 And by 1923 both the large Armenian and Greek
populations that had owned and inhabited the valley where Chantre had
5 Chantre 1898: 77.

6 Smith 1973: 232–236.

Figure 1.1 An overlay of the plan published by Chantre (1898) on a modern satellite image.
The location of the road and the village on his map only seem to fit the actual
situation partially, yet some of the houses still stand, which means that neither is
unlikely to have moved much. Taking into account the position of the zone
marked on the plan as having been destroyed prior to his visit (the Fouilles des
paysans), it does seem to render the situation correctly grosso modo. However, the
scale is about 5% larger than actual measurements, and the north arrow points
some 10° E of true north and 12° E of the position of magnetic north in 1894. The
exact position of the two areas in which Chantre conducted his excavations near
the palace thus remains unclear. According to the overlay, he would have come
down inside the palace in the regions of Rooms 16, 17 and 23 (cf. Fig. 1.3). This
seems to be supported by the remark of T. Özgüç (1999: 76), who states that
Chantre “opened two pits on the west side of the citadel and here removed some
of the rooms as he went down.” However, according to Chantre’s plan, it looks as if
his excavations were carried out horizontally from the north and into the section
created by the locals digging for fertilizer. Given the uncertainty of his plan, he
may therefore have missed the Waršama Palace altogether, and his trenches may
in fact correspond to the area visible roughly 50–100 m north and northwest of
the palace where two clear precipices are visible on the satellite image on either
side of a “tongue” protruding north—not unlike what is seen on his plan. Given
the imprecision in scale and orientation in his plan (and the difficult conditions
under which Chantre worked), either option seems possible. In contrast, his
report of digging at the summit (though not marked on the plan) and finding
walls “2 m thick on average” seems to suggest that he did hit the main palatial
building on the site.

10 Barjamovic
worked a generation earlier had been exiled or slain.7 There was no longer any
trace of the medieval monastery Surb Karapet that had been of such help to
Mr. and Mrs. Chantre, and the region had seen an almost total shift in popula-
tion and toponymy in less than a decade.
The background of how Hrozný managed to get funding directly from the
Czechoslovakian Parliament through the personal backing of Beneš and Ma-
saryk, and to obtain the permits to work at Kültepe, has been told elsewhere.8
Suffice it to say that excavations had to be carried out under extremely difficult
local conditions: poverty and great political instability were threatening se
curity,9 there was no access to clean drinking water, and malaria was rampant
7 For a discussion of the local demography, cf. Der Matossian 2013: 191–193.
8 The recent work in Czech by Kopecký (2011) provides the most detailed biography on Hrozný
written to date. It contains an account of the preparations for the excavation, and situates it
within a broader narrative on the formative phase and identity of the post-WWI Republic of
Czechoslovakia. A biography in English is found in Matouš 1949. For a narrative with focus on
his work at Kültepe, cf. Larsen 2015: ch. 2. In a letter dated January 26, 1922 kept in the Yale
Babylonian Collection, Aleš Hrdlička, curator of physical anthropology at the United States
National Museum (now the Smithsonian Institution), wrote to the treasurer of the American
Oriental Society, Prof. Albert T. Clay at Yale, interceding on behalf of his Czechoslovakian
compatriot Hrozný to ask for financial support of $1000 for “one or two trips to Asia Minor …
a relatively small expense, but nevertheless an expense that under the depreciation of the
valute of his country is unattainable where he is.” The letter suggests that Hrozný had already
begun thinking about an excavation in Turkey at this early stage (though not necessarily at
Kültepe). Conversely, a postcard sent by Hrozný to Prof. Clay dated January 10, 1925 still men-
tions only his intention to excavate in Syria that year (“dans le printemps 1925 je prépare la
continuation de nos fouilles à Tel Erbd”). Matouš (1949: 28) states that the permission to ex-
cavate at Kültepe only came through during the summer as Hrozný had already begun work
in Syria. He and Petraš wrapped up their work at Tall Rifa’at, and stood ready to excavate at
Kültepe by late June.
9 Adamčík (2013) offers a useful summary in Slovak of the 1924 exploratory trip that Hrozný
undertook with the architect Jaroslav Cukr. The two were assaulted several times on their
return from Syria, particularly while in Kayseri and trying to decide whether Chantre was
correct in his identification of Kültepe as the source of the tablets, or to follow the proposal
by Sidney Smith to dig at Höyük Tepe west of Kayseri. The two scholars did manage to ex-
clude the latter possibility, but under such duress that Cukr ended up fearing for his life and
refused to return with Hrozný for the following season. On June 21, 1924 Cukr had to flee
an angry mob that accosted him on the main street of Kayseri, and to seek asylum in a
mosque when a young man called him a gâvur and began firing his pistol at him. The
incident was allegedly the main reason why Cukr decided to leave his place on the team to
Václav Petraš. An excavation permit was obtained the following year with the aid of Hrozný’s
old friend Halil Edhem Bey, Director of the Constantinople Museum, and with full backing
from the Minister of Education, Hamdullah Subhi Bey, and the Director General of Antiqui-
ties, Mubarek Bey. Kemal Atatürk personally signed the permit. The attitude toward

on the marshy plain.10 Both Hrozný and his architect Petraš contracted the dis-
ease while working at Kültepe, and it was little help that they had limited
archaeological training and that the mound they had set out to tackle was huge.
Hrozný’s previous experience was restricted to a field season at Tell Taanech in
1904 under the guidance of Professor Sellin, and a couple of soundings into sites
in Syria and the Transjordan (Sheikh Saad and Tall Rifa’at) in 1924 and 1925.
Petraš had probably never dug before.
When the team consisting of Hrozný, Petraš and a German superintendent
of the dig workers named Grimmek ascended Kültepe with 150 local workers
on June 21, their attention was immediately drawn to the same hill rising at the
center of the mound that Chantre had first identified. They correctly assumed
that this central height would contain an important building in the ancient
city, and they began by laying out three search trenches some way away from
Chantre’s earlier dig. The workers soon hit upon large walls that confirmed the
initial assumption that this had to be part of the same structure identified by
Chantre. The walls, which had a thickness of 1.50 to 2.30 m, were built without
mortar using large natural blocks of volcanic andesite; rough-hewn stone
topped by bricks that had been vitrified in a violent conflagration.
In the following weeks, the trenches were gradually extended to form a
square measuring some 50 by 50 m that revealed more of what appeared to be
part of the same monumental building. Hrozný saw this as the stronghold of
the ruler. Its rooms, however, were mostly empty, and Hrozný failed to find the
source of the Cappadocian tablets as he had hoped.
Regrettably, we have only a sketchy plan and a few photographs of this im-
portant work from his brief preliminary report of the excavation in 1927
alongside a series of newspaper articles for a popular audience at home,11 and
a single page in the Inscriptions cunéiformes du Kültépé, Vol. I from 1952. What
little was published suggests that Hrozný kept detailed records, but we are for
the time being limited to his short descriptions and what one gets from com-
bining those with the results of later work on the site. More extensive notes
and photographic records, previously said to have been lost, have allegedly
appeared at the Náprstek Museum and will hopefully provide more detailed
information (see Bouzek, this volume).
the foreign team in Kayseri had changed markedly by 1925, and conditions at the village
of Karahöyük had become tolerable.
10 Chantre (1898: 72) likewise refers to the village beside the mound as being “en proie à
l’impaludisme le plus violent.”
11 Cf. the bibliography in Adamčík 2013 for a useful inventory.

12 Barjamovic
So far, posterity has, and with some justification, reproached Hrozný for his
work at Kültepe. In fact, the later excavator, Prof. Tahsin Özgüç of Ankara Uni-
versity, barely seems to contain his anger in his writings on the matter. He
clearly felt that Hrozný had deprived the world of crucial data from a crucial
site. However, such presentism, though fully understandable, has prevented
important connections from being made between the two excavations. In ad-
dition, Özgüç’s own work on the palace was published almost exclusively in a
single monograph that came out more than four decades after his excavations
of the building had begun; less than 50 written pages and plates constitute the
sum total of published documentation at present on one of the largest Bronze
Age palaces ever excavated.12
In evaluating Hrozný’s work, one must therefore first acknowledge the obvi-
ous political and logistical challenges that he had to face, as well as the circum-
stance that he had no archeological type-site to help him date his layers.13
Secondly, posterity did nothing to frame his results in a productive or relevant
way. The fact that he still did manage to distinguish between Bronze Age layers
and those extensive Hellenistic remains that had severely damaged the older
building is more than Chantre and Winckler accomplished. He was systematic
about where to open his trenches, and both his own report and Tahsin Özgüç’s
aerial photo show that he did not just dig a random round hole, as is some-
times stated in critiques of his work. He stuck to one set of trenches for the
entirety of his time on the mound, producing clear evidence to reject the the-
ory proposed by Chantre that Kültepe was situated on an active geological
zone and that the settlement had been destroyed by an eruption. He further
disproved Winckler’s assertion that “[e]s ist kaum möglich in dem aus reinen
Erdmassen bestehenden Hügel bestimmte Schichten festzustellen. Es ist alles
durcheinander gesunken.”14 Instead, he notes that “[n]ous avons, au contraire,
pu constater qu’il y a dans le Kültépé des couches tout à fait distinctes.”15 Even-
tually, he did of course also manage to prove not only that the site was the
source of the Cappadocian tablets, but also that this was the ancient city of
Kaneš—no small feat at a time when close to nothing was known about Ana-
tolian prehistory.
The sin of Hrozný therefore lay not so much in the dig itself as the fact that
he never published his results in a comprehensive manner. History to some
12 T. Özgüç 1999.
13 This came only with the excavations at the mound of Alişar by the Oriental Institute of
the University of Chicago between 1927 and 1932 under the auspices of Erich Schmidt.
14 Winckler 1906: 634.
15 Hrozný 1927: 3.

extent got in his way, first with the collapse of the First Republic and the First
Vienna Award, and later with the Nazi and Soviet occupation of Czechoslova-
kia. In 1939, he had the opportunity to emigrate, but refused to leave the coun-
try and chose instead to stay on as President of Charles University and bring it
through some of its most difficult years. A heart attack in 1944 effectively put
an end to his career as an active researcher.16
The remainder of this article shows how Tahsin Özgüç’s rejection of Hro-
zný’s work prevented connections from being made, and that one may gain
valuable insights from combining data from the two scholars, particularly in
reference to the palatial building on the Kültepe mound, its layout and
function.
Hrozný states that his workers dug down to a depth of about 8 meters in the
trench on the mound, although it is difficult to make much sense of the results
as they are presented in the preliminary report. Contrary to Chantre, he may
initially have thought that the stone foundations were walls, removing them
and the mud brick walls sitting on top of them. He published no record of any
small finds that were made, and it is hard to know if he collected many.17 He
also believed that the building with the large walls had to be dated to the Hit-
tite imperial period, and that it had been burnt down around 1200 bc. He thus
assumed that the Old Assyrian tablets had to come from even lower levels, and
dug down deep in a futile search for them.
Everything changed on July 2, when Hrozný went to the nearby village of
Salur to purchase four clay tablets that had come from the site. During his trip,
he accidentally learned from the coachman and excavation guard that he was
looking in vain for tablets on the mound, since the texts had in the past been
excavated just east of the mound in a field belonging to the heirs of a man
called Hadji Mehmed. He immediately sent Petraš with a group of local coun-
cilmen to investigate, and soon the group identified a meadow measuring
roughly 52 by 32 m where one could clearly discern multiple overgrown trench-
es. Excavations on the mound were suspended on 17 July for the harvest sea-
son, and Hrozný left the following day for Istanbul to obtain provisions and a
permit to move excavations down off the mound. Negotiations over the price
of the field further delayed matters, as the heirs of Hadji Mehmed demanded
160.000 czk to sell their land.18 Hrozný was forced to obtain a state valuation
16 Matouš 1949.
17 Although his regular articles in Národní listy and elsewhere seem to suggest that he did
find objects; cf. Adamčík 2013: 16 for references and see fn. 38 below.
18 The amount corresponds to approximately 7.2 kg of gold in 1925 prices, or ca. usd
$250.000 in 2020.

14 Barjamovic
under the new Turkish antiquities law that would ultimately allow him to pro-
cure the land for czk 5.500. During negotiations, it became clear that not only
the family of Hadji Mehmed and their fellow villagers of Karahöyük, but also
the occupants of the nearby settlements of Salur, Mancusun and Gömeç had
been digging there in recent years. This had resulted in skirmishes and led to
the local jandarma forbidding further activities in the field. The policemen had
instead taken over the illicit digging themselves.
Hrozný returned to Kültepe on August 30 in the afternoon, but since malaria
broke out in the camp immediately thereafter, workers only began excavating
the new site identified by Petraš on September 20. The first few days revealed
only scattered tablets, and Hrozný was beginning to wonder whether he was
excavating a kind of hidden storage where the residents of the ancient city had
saved their records before fleeing.19 The next few days proved him wrong, how-
ever, and by September 26 he uncovered the first larger group of tablets at a
depth of some 2.5 meters. Over the course of nine weeks, the team uncovered
the remains of several houses, and found several additional groups of texts ly-
ing in heaps or kept in storage jars, for a total of about one thousand tablets
and envelopes. Additional finds included a couple of huge storage jars dated to
the Hellenistic period, and allegedly also “a fragment of the Hittite throne
of the governor” that it has not been possible to trace.20 It may have been lost
in the 1969 fire that destroyed the storage facilities at the Bohemian castle of
Benešov nad Ploučnicí where the finds from Kültepe were kept.
Importantly, however, Hrozný carefully noted down the find spots of all tab-
lets in the field, and a preliminary plan was later published on Plate 129 of the
Inscriptions cunéiformes du Kültépé, Vol. i. It is unclear whether the two strata
ii and Ib of the Lower Town at Kültepe as later defined by T. Özgüç had been
missed or conflated by Hrozný, but by the time that Hrozný and Petraš left
Kültepe on November 21, the expedition had produced a record that was suffi-
ciently coherent to use as the basis for later archival analysis. In 1982 this
allowed Larsen to conduct a survey of the archive of the Assyrian merchant
Imdi-ilum s. Šu-Laban based on the plan published by Hrozný that connected
text and locus.21 Jan Gerrit Dercksen continued this work in 2002 by assigning
individual tablets to the 12 find spots identified by Hrozný.22 And in 2014
Thomas Hertel combined the work of his predecessors with a much-improved
19 Adamčík 2013.
20 See fn. 46 below.
21 Larsen 1982.
22 Dercksen 2001–2002.

Figure 1.2 An overlay of the plans from Hrozný 1927 and T. Özgüç 1999. The two
have been placed on top of one another and fitted as best as
possible—connecting walls when that seems feasible, while filling
out the entire pit left by Hrozný as visible from satellite images and
ignoring his reconstructions and the odd angles shown on his plan.
When compared subsequently, the scales of the two maps agree
within 1% of accuracy, which may be taken as independent support
for the way the two plans are fitted. A cleaned-up and straightened
version of the overlay forms the basis of the reconstruction shown in
Fig. 1.3.
knowledge of the archaeology of the site to include his findings in a complete

plan of the Lower Town settlement.23 By combining Hrozný’s original plans
and what T. Özgüç had since excavated, Hertel showed that one could connect
the two and create an overlapping map of the area.
23 Hertel 2014.

16 Barjamovic
This in itself serves to vindicate Hrozný’s archaeological work to some small

extent, at least in terms of precision. The evidence applied by Dercksen proves
that precise records of the individual finds from the field of Hadji Mehmed
were made and allowed reconstructions of the original assemblage. The work
conducted by Larsen, Dercksen and Hertel on the Lower Town area thus sug-
gests that Hrozný’s work can be trusted to some extent and that it may be of
adequate precision to permit its use also to investigate the building on the
citadel mound.
A similar attempt to reconcile Hrozný’s plan of the palatial structure with
those published by T. Özgüç is made in Fig. 1.2.
To some extent, the excavation notes provided by Hrozný offer greater preci-
sion than those given by T. Özgüç for his own work in the Lower Town area
between 1959 and 2005. During the latter’s first ten seasons at the site, results
were regularly published, but did not normally provide the exact find spots of
individual tablets in a systematic fashion.24 This renders impossible any at-
tempt at conducting archival studies and/or combining studies of texts with
the content of the houses from which they came.
The data irretrievably lost at Kültepe through lack of recording and publica-
tion is overwhelming. During the first three seasons, Tahsin Özgüç was doing
well in terms of both research and publication, and that there was no immedi-
ate reason why this practice could not have continued. But political changes in
Turkish academia appear to have caused changes in his approach and to have
brought about a quickening pace of excavation at the expense of publication.
Perhaps related to this shift was the effort by Tahsin and Nimet Özgüç in
Ankara and Albrecht Goetze at Yale University in 1951 to build a joint field pro-
gram at Kültepe, formed as a collaboration between Ankara University and the
American Schools of Oriental Research. The effort was given strong support by
several influential colleagues, most notably by Prof. Benno Landsberger in Chi-
cago, who had himself taught Tahsin and Nimet Özgüç, and the field epigra-
pher at Kültepe, Prof. Kemal Balkan of Ankara University. All parties appear
initially to have been animated by the prospect of learning from each other
and coming to grips with the overwhelming amount of data that the first three
seasons of work at the site had produced. The correspondence of Goetze, now
kept at Manuscripts and Archives at Yale University, shows how he, Tahsin and
Nimet Özgüç, Landsberger and Balkan went about planning the joint project.
Goetze spent almost two weeks at the site between Aug. 28 and Sept. 7 in 1951.
Nimet Özgüç was leading the excavation while her husband was on research
leave in the United Kingdom. There is an almost tangible excitement in the
24 Cf. Barjamovic 2015b for a discussion of one important exception where it is possible to
assign precise find spots for a few tablets excavated in 1948 in the Assyrian “schoolhouse.”

letters exchanged between the three from Ankara, New Haven and London
after Goetze’s return around Oct. 1. These in turn translated into activity on
both sides to garner financial and institutional support for the endeavor.
The mood begins to change in the letters dated from December of 1951 and
into 1952, as the group slowly saw its initiative clandestinely undercut by an
opposing group of Turkish scholars headed by Prof. Emin Bilgiç of Ankara
University. Bilgiç clearly wanted the excavation for himself, and tried his best
to remove Tahsin Özgüç and his chief epigrapher Balkan from the site. At
the same time, he was himself corresponding with Goetze, to be invited on a
scholarship to the usa, not realizing that the latter was aware of his duplicity.
Ultimately, Bilgiç failed to oust Tahsin and Nimet Özgüç, but did succeed in
postponing the all-important meeting in the Turkish Historical Association that
was to decide on the joint project for long enough to prevent the 1952 season
from happening.25 He then went on to persuade a sufficient number of com-
mittee members to stay away from the following meeting in the Department of
General Antiquities, where a vote on the project had to be passed.26 As Goetze
saw it, the plan of cooperation was vetoed, because its present members “cared
more for expressing nationalistic resentment of Western scholarly pre-eminence
than for seizing an unusual opportunity for progress in archaeology.”27
The result of this failed collaboration on the excavations at Kültepe seems to
have been profound. Presumably in fear of further attempts to dislodge him
from the site, Tahsin Özgüç retreated from all further collaborations, and did
not invite foreigners to work at Kültepe again. He is in fact later said to have
cautioned junior Turkish colleagues from entering into foreign partnerships,
while the details, and even the existence, of a projected partnership with asor
were no longer spoken about. The failed collaboration between Ankara, Yale
and Chicago remained essentially unknown until a digitized finding aid for
Goetze’s papers turned up in a Google search during the preparation for this
25 1952 was the only year where no excavation took place between 1948 and the present. It
has always been referred to as a “study season” in later conversation, but Goetze’s letters
make it clear that the real reason for the break in excavation was due to the asor affair.
26 In a letter dated March 24, 1952 to Carl Kraeling, who was the president of asor from 1949
to 1954, Goetze reports: “What you have just read is the text of la lettre fatale. We learn
from it that the nationalistic clique has prevailed and that therefore the proposed coop-
eration with ttk [Türk Tarih Kurumu = Turkish Historical Society] is impossible …
Nobody could have foreseen this development, and the internal twist which my visit to
Turkey and our proposal gave to internal tensions among Turkish scholars is really an as-
tonishing phenomenon. I consider the matter closed.”
27 Online resource: Grigg 1978 Albrecht Goetze Papers, Manuscripts and Archives, Yale Uni-
versity Library.

18 Barjamovic
article.28 Keeping the situation in mind, however, one may perhaps explain
why the material from Hrozný’s excavations, and his developing approach to
archival analyses of the textual evidence, were not systematically taken into
account by Tahsin Özgüç. Digging fast and producing results of a tangible kind
at Kültepe had become a political endeavor, and perhaps even a precondition
for keeping the site.
A team led by Nimet Özgüç returned to the huge palatial building where
Hrozný had worked, opening up the first soundings in 1954 and continuing
excavations until 1962. After a break of a few years, a team led by Kutlu Emre
resumed work from 1966 to 1982.29 The levels dug by Hrozný were defined as
belonging to Mound Level 7 and found to be contemporary with Lower Town
level Ib. This huge structure became known as the “Waršama Palace” after a
letter found in its vicinity addressed to a local ruler of this name. We now know
that the building was quite a bit older than Waršama, and that the timber used
to build it was cut around 1850 bc.30 The building occupies more than one
hectare and measures roughly 100 by 110 m.31 T. Özgüç estimated that it con-
tained at least 60 rooms at ground level, with roughly 40 of those rooms dug in
the northern sector of the building by the Turkish teams. But those excavations
cover only about a third of the total area of the palace, and the plan published
by Hrozný suggests that the Czechoslovaks dug at least another 30 rooms in the
southern and central areas of the palace. In all probability, a more comprehen-
sive estimate would be close to 100 rooms and corridors.
Importantly, Tahsin Özgüç notes that only the foundations of the building
appear to have survived: despite his best efforts, he was not able to identify a
single door in the building. And since the walls still stood up to a height of
more than 4 m, this suggests that the basement rooms were accessible from
above only by ladders or stairs, either individually or in groups.32 The walls
28 An inventory of Goetze’s papers MS 648, Box 3, folders 52–54 was made by Yale librarian
Susan Grigg in 1978 and digitized and put online in 2015. Scholarly collaborations resumed
at Kültepe in 2006 under the new director of excavations, Prof. Fikri Kulakoğlu of Ankara
University. The site is now the center of a thriving community of Turkish and interna-
tional scholars, and the biannual “Kültepe International Meetings” draw colleagues from
all over world, who conduct research on material related to the site. They gather there for
a week to present and discuss their work with emphasis on interdisciplinary exchange
and integration. In addition, there is a push to revisit the results and locations of the old
excavations, and more importantly, to consult and interpret the huge legacy of notes and
plans that were produced during the years of excavations under Tahsin Özgüç. Kültepe
studies are entering an exciting new era.
29 T. Özgüç 1999: xxi.
30 Manning et al. 2016 and 2017.
31 T. Özgüç 1999: 79.
32 T. Özgüç 1999: 81.

consisted of massive stone foundations up to 250 cm in height, and were

topped by another 150 cm of mud-brick built using bricks of different size
from the walls proper of the palace above.33 The actual walls were erected in
half-timber on top of the foundations, using vertical beams, crossbeams and
mud-brick, and were thickly plastered (4.5–5 cm) on the outside down to the
foundations, though never with any trace of color. Two narrow rooms were
identified by Özgüç as possible staircases based on their shape (cf. Fig. 1.3,
Rooms 16 and 42), but no finds were made to support his proposition, and it is
difficult to divide the rooms into functional groups, or to imagine stairwells
descending into doorless rooms.
The functional layout (“residential,” “storage,” etc.) shown on Fig. 1.3 is taken
from Michel 2015 and based on information provided by T. Özgüç 1999 and
elsewhere.34 The data provided in the primary publications is occasionally
Figure 1.3 A reconstructed plan of the Waršama Palace based on the overlay of the plans
from Hrozný 1927 and T. Özgüç 1999 shown in Fig. 1.2. Room numbers follow
T. Özgüç 1999 and Michel 2015 and refer to Table 1.1.
33 T. Özgüç 1999: 80.

34 Michel 2015 and 2019.

20 Barjamovic
contradictory, and the precise context of the finds is often unclear. The area in
the palace dug by Hrozný had later been refilled and was mostly avoided by
Tahsin Özgüç (in understandable frustration). It now stands as a raised mound
in the center of the building with the remainder of the structure dug around it.
It seems clear, however, that the large square identified by Hrozný in his report
as a paved courtyard must have marked the center of the building and the
rooms of the palace essentially built around it. Although his description is
vague, Hrozný seems to suggest that the courtyard was elevated compared to
the surrounding walls.35 If this is correct, then it appears that the courtyard
would have been directly accessed through a southern gate, and that one
would have to ascend from it directly to the first floor of the building. The west-
ern entrance found by Özgüç could provide an auxiliary access to the main
basements, but the southwestern part of the building was badly damaged.
Tahsin Özgüç provided abundant proof that a level above the excavated
walls must have constituted the main floor of the building. He both showed
how roof beams, brick sections, tablets and pottery had fallen from the upper
floor to be deposited outside of the building to the north, and pointed to the
fact that most of the functional rooms we would expect from a palace appear
to be absent in the plan, including official and private chambers and cultic in-
stallations. Özgüç also notes that Hrozný probably found the palace courtyard,36
but states that all walls had been removed in order to dig further down without
records being made and plans drawn.
As seen from the combined plan on Fig. 1.3, this is not entirely accurate.
Although the plan is sketchy and cannot represent the situation entirely cor-
rectly, the overlapping plans do appear to produce identifiable patterns. For
instance, the eastern and western sides of the building are said by Tahsin
Özgüç to have been badly damaged by later Hellenistic and Roman activities.
The plan from Hrozný’s preliminary report shows the existence of ephemeral
building remains in the same area, which he dated to the Greco-Roman period
based on the find of characteristic terracotta.37 One can easily see how the
adjacent areas dug by Hrozný could also have been heavily damaged in
35 Hrozný 1927: 4. This was rejected by T. Özgüç (1999, 75), who seems, however, to take Hro-
zný to say that the entire structure, and not only the courtyard, had been built on a ter-
race. Whether the central courtyard was elevated vis-à-vis the surrounding rooms could
presumably no longer be verified by Özgüç, since Hrozný had removed everything in his
search for deeper levels. The deep fill that Hrozný dug through under the courtyard was
presumably the destruction debris of the Old Palace, contemporary with the Lower Town
Level ii, and brought to light by Özgüc in other areas.
36 T. Özgüç 1999: 80.
37 Hrozný 1927: 4.

a ntiquity. A second case of an apparent coincidence between the two plans

relates to the system of oversized foundations located by Özgüç in the western
part of the building. These appear to have formed part of an arrangement that
was also detected by Hrozný and marked by thicker walls. This not only implies
a measure of accuracy in the combined plan, but also suggests that the base-
ment foundations in this part of the structure could have been supporting a
heavier weight than in the remainder of the building. This might be related to
the existence of the heavily fortified side entrance to the basement found by
Özgüç, or it might suggest that this part of the structure carried the main suite
of reception rooms on the first floor of the building.
Most (if not all) rooms in the basement had floors of hard stamped earth
covered with plaster. Hrozný never mentioned these floors, and he presumably
missed them. The fact that no doors were found led Tahsin Özgüç to surmise
that the overall function of the rooms might reasonably mirror the general dis-
tribution of the rooms above, and that those wings of the basement that had
storage and administrative purposes would refer to offices on the floor above.
However, nothing definite emerges, and the interpretations offered by Özgüç
and Michel, while representing the most plausible scenario based on the few
surviving finds, are inevitably tentative. The rooms of the building appear to
have been almost completely emptied out before they were set ablaze (strong-
ly suggesting intent) and leave us guessing as to what their purpose was. Rela-
tively few and only mostly minor objects, such as ceramic vessels, seals, bullae
(31 total), beads and fragments of figurines were recovered during the nearly
three decades that the Turkish team worked in the building (cf. Table 1.1). This
also goes to explain why Hrozný mentions few objects in his preliminary
report—he probably found very little during his two months on the mound.38
In addition, like his successors, he was mostly digging through what proved to
be a heavily disturbed zone of the central courtyard and its surrounding
corridors.
38 According to his summary reports in Národní listy published between February 27 and
April 10, 1927, finds made in and around the paved courtyard included basalt stone, pot-
tery, mortars, weights, spindles, and the lower half of a massive stone relief on a block
depicting a pair of feet in shoes with raised tips. The latter is said to have come from near
the courtyard, and might date to the late Hittite stratum identified by Tahsin Özgüç in
sector lxxxvii–lxxxviii/88–92 (cf. T. Özgüç 1999: 79). However, too little is preserved to
allow any strong statements on stylistic grounds. The rendering of knee, ankle and muscle
(cf. Hrozný 1927: pl. ii.1) might suggest an earlier date, but finds dating to the Iron Age
were also made by Hrozný in what appears to be the same area, including the blade of an
iron knife, clay loom weights, and “painted pottery with geometric shapes,” cf. Adamčík
2013: 12–13. A slightly different list of finds appears in Hrozný 1927: 5.

22 Barjamovic
Table 1.1 Rooms (numbers referring to Fig. 1.3) and finds with data drawn from T. Özgüç
1999 and N. Özgüç 2001. Some additional small finds coming from the palace are
listed in T. Özgüç 1999: 84–94 without information about their find spot. For the
location of the epigraphic finds, see Michel 2019: 128–130.
Room Finds
11 Three bullae “tied to rims of bottles” (stoppers) (Kt t/t

9–11) TÖ 87, NÖ 181
12 8 bullae (Kt z/t 4–9, 15, 23–24 and stopper 25) TÖ
88–89, NÖ 187–189
14 1/2 bulla (Kt 73/t 27) TÖ 88, faience seal-amulet (Kt y/t
10) TÖ 91
24 Storage vessels (“hydria”), TÖ 85: “evidently arranged in
regular alignment, filled with contents. These are repre-
sented by a repetitive type” (no numbers listed)
25 1 bulla (Kt 73/t 30) NÖ 189, bowls (Kt 73/t 38, 40, 52, 53,
58–59) TÖ 93–94, pitchers (Kt 73/t 41, Kt 73/t 51) TÖ
94, jar (Kt 73/k 56–57, 61) TÖ 94
26 Steatite stamp seal (Kt y/t 6) TÖ 90, bowl (Kt t/t 5) TÖ
93, pitcher (Kt 73/t 48) TÖ 94
Outside Room 28 1 bulla (Kt g/t 280) TÖ 88: “in the palace debris outside
Room 28,” NÖ 182: “in the debris of the south part of the
palace”
29 1 bulla (Kt u/t 1) TÖ 88, NÖ 185
33 Two pitchers (Kt 73/t 46–47) TÖ 94, red serpentine
stamp seal (Kt 73/t 29) TÖ 89, gold foil fragments (Kt y/t
7) TÖ 91
34 Hollow top of gold nail (Kt v/t 39) TÖ 91
35 TÖ 85: “Complete vessels on floor” with no numbers
given
42 Three bowls (Kt 82/t 6–8) TÖ 93
44 Serpentine weight (Kt z/t 1) TÖ 92, hydria (Kt 73/t 43)
TÖ 94, 1 bulla (Kt s/t 64) TÖ 88: “palace debris xciv/28,”
NÖ 184: “Room 44”
46 7 bullae (Kt v/t 22, 41–46) TÖ 87, NÖ 185–186
47 Head of faience figurine (Kt 73/t 22) TÖ 90–91, Gold
bead (Kt f/t 411) TÖ 91, spearhead (Kt f/t 84) TÖ 91
49 Three jars (Kt v/t 144–146) TÖ 94
50 Pitcher (Kt 73/t 42) TÖ 94

Room Finds
51 (corridor A sardonyx bead (Kt 73/t 31) TÖ 92, bowl (Kt 73/t 54)
south of Room TÖ 94, sealed bulla stopper of a jug (Kt 74/t 13) TÖ 88:
50) “in Room 51,” NÖ 182: “in the debris of the south part of
the palace,” NÖ 189: “Room 51”
Palace debris Stamp seal, terracotta (Kt 73/t 16) TÖ 89
lxxxviii/89
Outside palace at Bronze stamp seal (Kt g/t 309) TÖ 90 “Palace debris in
Room 11 xci/89,” N. Özgüç 1959: 46 “refuse layer of the Warshama
Palace (area Y/28)”
Outside palace at Envelope Kt z/t 20, presumably dating to the Lower Town
Rooms 11–13 Level ii period, but cf. Michel 2015: 167 and 2019: 129
(last, unmarked entry) following TÖ 93 for its later
archeological context
Along the south Bowl (Kt 82/t 9) TÖ 94
wall xcvi/95
Burnt debris of Obsidian vessel fragment (Kt 73/t etüdlük) TÖ 92
north
fortification
Outside Room 9 The letter of Anum-Hirbi (Kt g/t 35) TÖ 93 (see below)
Unknown: Nine administrative records, four or five of which can be
“Palace on the identified (Kt g/t 36, Kt g/t 42+Kt z/t 11, Kt g/t 43–44).
Citadel” and Günbattı (1987) states that they were found with Kt h/t
palace debris 330, while Bilgiç (1964) states that the latter came from a
(TÖ 93, NÖ temple. NÖ 165, 183 notes that bullae Kt h/t 102, 318,
183–184, Michel 326–27 and Kt o/t 204a came from the Palace debris, the
2015: 166–167 numbers supporting Günbattı’s assertion. Kt g/t 44 is
and 2019: 128) dated to rel 202. The remaining texts studied by Donbaz
(1998) came from the mound but probably not from the
palace. Most date to the level ii-period.
“In the rooms, Fragments of wooden furniture, charred, straight-sided,
principally with dowel-holes, TÖ 92. Two pieces pictured in pl. 78,
among objects 1–2; Fig. A. 35–36.
on the floors”
Unknown (from Bone appliqué (Kt 81/t 126) TÖ 92, bowls (Kt 73/t 39
the palace, but [the number suggests it came from Room 25], Kt 81/t
without exact 117) TÖ 94, hydria (Kt 73/t etüdlük) TÖ 94, pitcher (Kt
provenance) 81/t 119) TÖ 94

24 Barjamovic
Tahsin Özgüç, followed by Michel, stated that an absence of cultic and resi-
dential rooms is unthinkable in a building of this size and importance. This in
turn led him to assign the rooms marked “residential” on Fig. 1.3 to have served
that purpose. However, if all rooms were windowless basements, then the
offices, living quarters, and the pomp and circumstance associated with a pala-
tial structure should be assigned to the first floor.39
The rooms allocated to administration and storage by Özgüç are arranged
according to two possible staircases, but a reexamination of the published data
compiled in Table 1.1 suggest a more complex distribution of finds and pre-
cludes any straightforward interpretation. It seems probable that the base-
ments were mostly used for various types of storage. This would fit with the
image we obtain from the textual record about the political and social organi-
zation of the Kaneshite state, which was governed by a ruling couple, but ad-
ministered by a large cadre of civil servants in an elaborate hierarchy of titles
and portfolios.40 One can easily reconcile a model of organization that involves
multiple offices and associated storage space with the architectural layout of
the Warshama Palace.
At what appears to be southern end of the building, Hrozný detected walls
of “a radically different character” from the rest.41 He tentatively ascribed this
to a separate temple structure, but interestingly, the feature as marked on Fig.
1.3 seems to fit exactly into the blank on Tahsin Özgüç’s plan of the southern
wall of the palace. So, assuming that Hrozný got his levels right, it may instead
constitute part of a main entrance or gate structure of the palace. From the
gate, one would gain access directly to the courtyard and presumably proceed
by way of staircases to the main level of the building.
Multilevel palatial structures are well known e.g. in the Minoan palaces, and
probably also at Alalakh,42 where a so-called “piano nobile” led into reception
halls located on a raised level, often above magazines. At Knossos, Phaistos,
and Malia, evidence for such second-floor apartments includes fallen frag-
ments of decorated plaster, fallen doorjambs, and even pillar bases in the first
39 Michel (2019: 127) talks of residential quarters and rooms reserved for ceremony in the
existing plan, while Michel (2015: 165) expresses a notion closer to the present: “Dans la
pièce 16 se trouvait un escalier menant à l’étage où se trouvait vraisemblablement la rési-
dence du prince.”
40 Cf. Erol 2007; Veenhof and Eidem 2008: 219–233; Barjamovic forthcoming for a list and
discussion of various titles, and Dercksen 2004, 2005, 2008; Shi 2015 for the state-
controlled system of land tenure and organization of labor.
41 Hrozný 1927: 4.
42 For a possible example at Alalakh in the Hatay, cf. Woolley 1946, but note the critique in
von Rüden 2014: 60–61 of Woolley’s tendency to draw Aegean comparisons to the archi-
tecture and decoration at Alalakh (when little was known from Syrian and Anatolian
sites).

floor area.43 Although Hrozný published no floor elevations from Kültepe,

Tahsin Özgüç states that an offset between floor levels does seem to have ex-
isted; perhaps the perimeter of the structure was built around a low rise.44 The
central courtyard would in turn be located at its highest point. This would ex-
plain how one could walk directly from a gate and through a courtyard into the
basement of the building while effectively remaining on the same level. On
the other hand, there was no propylaeum or other obvious structure marking
the route of ascent, and clearly the architectural concept was different from
that of Aegean contemporaries. Instead, the progression from gate to colon-
naded courtyard is a standard feature in later Hittite public architecture,45 and
may have had its prototype at Kültepe, as suggested by the partially preserved
“halls” that surround the courtyard on at least three sides.
A 16th-century parallel to the general outline of the Warshama Palace comes
from the 18-ha site of Kuşaklı just 120 km northeast of Kültepe. At less than half
its size, “Building C” at Kuşaklı is thought to have been a temple, but seems to
share some features of the Warshama palace, including a large rectangular
courtyard around which the various building wings were arranged, and door-
less rooms of a southeastern wing of the building that were built on a natural
slope and went below the courtyard by about one story (ca. 3.20 m). Walls were
constructed on stone foundations with rising mud walls, still standing in some
places to a height of 3 m, and preserving parts of the ceiling that formed the
floor above the basement. The total number of rooms in Building C at Kuşaklı
is estimated to have been at least 110, which probably comes close to what the
palace in Kültepe had. The relative proximity of the two buildings in time and
space may even suggest a genetic relationship, the later building being a half-
scale version of its predecessor.
The main indication of the existence of an upper floor at Kültepe is the ab-
sence of any obvious candidates for certain functions that one would assume
exists in a palace, as well as the lack of doors in a building whose walls were
43 Cf. Graham 1962. Also, the flat roofs of these buildings appear to have been important
ritual and public spaces, cf. Graham 1979.
44 T. Özgüç 1999: 82, and cf. Kulakoğlu 2017 for a discussion of the natural topography dictat-
ing the shape of the earlier public buildings on the mound.
45 Cf. e.g. the overview in Mielke 2011 with good examples at Büyükkale at Boğazköy (gate
buildings leading into colonnaded courts) and Maşat Höyük (colonnaded courtyard).
Note also the doorless basements in buildings E, F, H and K at Boğazköy (cf. Neve 1982:
92–102) and the southern wing of Building C at Kuşaklı (discussed below) that are similar
to what is preserved at Kültepe. A close parallel in time, but more remote in distance, is
the so-called “Burnt Palace” of Level V at Beycesultan (cf. the perspective reconstruction
in Lloyd and Mellaart 1965: 30), which had no basements, but a colonnaded main court-
yard and an adjacent grand staircase leading up to the first-floor apartments.

26 Barjamovic
preserved to a great height.46 Based on this observation, one may suggest that
the short walls protruding on the western side of the courtyard in Hrozný’s
plan mark the position of staircases leading to the upper chambers, as shown
on Fig. 1.3. The surrounding halls mentioned above may in turn have supported
a colonnade or peristyle on the floor above.
Multistoried palatial structures are known from the excavations of the con-
temporary palace of Sarıkaya at Acemhöyük, which also revealed the remains
of a frontal colonnade or portico in wood. Aside from postholes and carbon-
ized remains of the timber itself, an elaborate architectural rendering found on
a bathtub in the building supports the reconstruction of a colonnade. This im-
age (Fig. 1.4) shows stacked porches on the exterior of a building with super-
posed slender wooden posts and large flat capitals, the lower post being taller
than the striped upper one. Details include openwork railings used as parapets
on the balconies, and stairs in two locations. Walls are indicated by solid black,
checkerboard, or crisscross linear patterns.
The image on the bathtub has been associated convincingly by Nimet Özgüç
with the façade of Sarıkaya itself,47 and while one may speculate on the iden-
tity of specific details in the rendering of the architecture, the main thrust of
the illustration is clear: we are looking at a building which presents an open
front with two stories of balconies over a socle.48 At Sarıkaya, the portico
formed part of the palace façade, as in later western examples, while it may
have encircled the courtyard of the Warshama Palace in anticipation of later
Hittite architecture. In both cases, the extensive use of wood in the buildings
led to such high temperatures during the conflagrations that destroyed them
that it completely vitrified the surrounding mud-brick and made Chantre be-
lieve that he was digging in a volcano.
Interpretations such as these must necessarily remain tentative, but at least
it seems possible to demonstrate that the two datasets published by Hrozný
46 An unlikely alternative would be that Hrozný obliterated all remains of the throne room
during the course of his excavations. Adamčík (2013: 13) reports: “Among the last finds
made at [the mound of] Kültepe … was a fragment of the side of a throne belonging to the
Hittite ruler.” What object he refers to is unclear, and there is no source given for his re-
mark. Hrozný (1927: 5) mentions no such object in a similar list. If one were nevertheless
to accept the reference, and if the object in question were in fact to date to the Middle
Bronze Age palace (and not some later period, perhaps paired with the relief found by
Hrozný in the same building), then this could be taken as evidence that Hrozný dug away
the remains of the main audience chamber of the ruler. This does not solve the problem
of the missing doors in the remainder of the building.
47 Cf. N. Özgüç 1966 and see also T. Özgüç 1998: 468 and 2003: 128–129.
48 A detailed discussion of the piece appears in Mellink 1993 and is quoted extensively here.
Wooden porticos of the same type appear in traditional Turkish architecture, cf. e.g. the
examples shown in N. Özgüç 2015: 204.

Figure 1.4 Decorated bathtub from Acemhöyük (cf. N. Özgüç 1966 and Mellink 1993)
probably showing the double portico northern façade of the Sarıkaya Palace, a
near-contemporary of the Warshama Palace at Kültepe.
and Tahsin Özgüç are to some extent compatible. This was clearly the case in
Hertel’s study of the Lower Town,49 and seems also to apply to the much more
disturbed layers excavated by them on the mound of Kültepe.
A comparison between the two allows us to draw new conclusions and raise
new questions. Section drawings for the palace have not yet been published,
but were produced by Özgüç and his team, and are being worked on by the
current excavators.50 There are also smaller areas in and around the building
that were intentionally left intact by Emre for future archaeologists to work on.
Finally, one might feasibly re-excavate parts of Hrozný’s old trench to see what,
49 Hertel 2014.
50 I am grateful to Professors T. Özgüç and F. Kulakoğlu for sharing this information. An impor-
tant goal of the ongoing excavations at Kültepe is to link Middle Bronze Age (palatial)
strata to Early Bronze Age predecessors, and to obtain a better understanding of the
mound stratigraphy by digging a small area where the crucial transitional layers appear to
have been left undisturbed by later activities. For recent developments, cf. Ezer 2015 and
Kulakoğlu 2017.

28 Barjamovic
if anything, was left behind.51 Several of these undertakings are scheduled or

have already been launched by the new director of excavations at Kültepe, and
there is real hope now that a number of the issues raised in the course of this
discussion will become clear in the decades to come.
More can probably also be done with the notebooks, photographs and plans
from Hrozný’s excavations, if they do in fact survive—perhaps in a joint effort
between local institutions and scholars working on Old Assyrian Kültepe. One
might use the upcoming centennial of his excavations as the occasion to pro-
duce some semblance of a final report of Hrozný’s work at Kültepe in 1925. One
should emphasize that it is all too easy (and sometimes even tempting) to criti-
cize earlier colleagues with the benefit of hindsight. Hopefully, I have shown
why this is not a productive approach. Unique constraints, changing research
agendas, and often entirely down-to-earth priorities drove all three scholars
discussed above in their work—Chantre, Hrozný and Tahsin Özgüç. Instead, a
reexamination and recombination of their data with current knowledge can
lead to new insights about the site of Kültepe and its main palace.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to Jeffrey Blossom of the Harvard University Center for Geographic

Analysis for producing figures 1.1–1.3. I thank Aslıhan Yener and Mogens Trolle
Larsen for reading and commenting on a draft of this text. I am grateful to the
Yale University Library Manuscripts and Archives for providing access to the
Albrecht Goetze Papers. I thank the Yale Babylonian collection for permission
to cite the correspondence between Clay, Hrdlička and Hrozný.
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nal 107/5–6, 179–190.

Chapter 2
Hrozný’s Excavations, 1924–1925:

Sheikh Sa’ad, Tell Erfad
Jan Bouzek
Abstract
This paper contains a report on B. Hrozný’s excavations in Syria and reviews the
reports on the surveys of the sites in the 1990s and 2008, as well as publications of finds
kept in the Czech collections. Of particular importance are Bronze Age and Early Iron
Age terracottas, Hellenistic and Roman pottery, lamps and glass from Tell Erfad, and a
Roman sculpture, inscriptions and part of a Neo-Hittite orthostat from Sheik Sa’ad.
Keywords
Bedřich Hrozný – Syria – Sheikh Sa’ad – Tell Erfad – Bronze Age – Early Iron Age –
Neo-Hittite – Roman sculpture – inscriptions
Following his groundbreaking identification of the Hittite language, Bedřich

Hrozný wanted to excavate his favourite Hittites, but he had to wait for the
permission of the Turkish government, even though he already had the money
from the Czechoslovak government. The then newly founded Czechoslovakia
had very good relations with France, and as he was by then a renowned scholar,
he was offered by the French mandate government the chance to excavate in
Syria. From the sites offered to him, he chose two: Sheikh Sa’ad with a ruined
4th century temple and a visible terrace of earlier date in the Hauran area (like-
ly because of a reported earlier find of a “Hittite” statue of a lion), and a tell
situated northwest of Aleppo, Tell Erfad (or Rifad).
1 Sheikh Sa’ad
At Sheikh Sa’ad, the excavations started on April 4, 1924 and continued until
May 17, but several of Hrozný’s sketches of uncovered ruins in his diary date

Hrozný’s Excavations, 1924–1925 33
from the first days of June, so he must have remained there for two or three
weeks after the end of the excavation. We have not yet discovered the plans
made by his architect (perhaps they are lost), only the rough sketches by Hro-
zný himself. The main excavations were conducted below the then standing
mosque, around the now largely collapsed sanctuary: at the southern face of
the structure, and along the so-called Lion Wall. The lion was considered by
Hrozný as being Neo-Hittite, as is also the case for the associated orthostat
(Bouzek et al. 1999: 12, SS 13, Plate 13). The digs descended up to 3 m below the
original surface, and Hrozný led his trenches mainly along the walls, in order to
clean the ruins according to the then usual strategy (dégagement des ruines).
Some important results from his digs are the stone sculpture, partly in the
National Archaeological Museum in Damascus and partly in Prague, the in-
scriptions (nearly all in the Damascus museum), and the photographic docu-
mentation of the temple before its collapse in the 1930s. The main finds as
preserved in drawings and photographs have already been published in csir,
Czech Republic i (Bouzek et al. 1999; cf. also Bouzek 1990: 87–92).1
Being a philologist and epigraphist, Hrozný was much more interested in
inscriptions and other written documents than in anything else, but he de-
scribed all he could see, and his notebooks contain sketches of situations and
of important finds, richly documented in his photographs. Except for several
brief preliminary reports in Czech (Hrozný 1924) and one in English (Hrozný
1926), Hrozný himself did not publish any more substantial report during his
lifetime, but his photographs and diaries were preserved and most of the ob-
jects acquired by him as his share (the usual practice at that time) have already
been published in several places (Hrozný 1924).
In 2008, a Czech team from the Faculty of Arts of Charles University con-
ducted a brief survey at Sheikh Sa’ad. At the site, we took photographs of the
ruins and their immediate surroundings, notably of the remaining visible part
of the terrace (the Wall of the Lion) and the walls uncovered by Prof. Hrozný,
as far as they are still visible (Figs. 2.3, 2.4, 2.5). We tried to compare the present
situation with that of the 1920s as reproduced in Hrozný’s photographs (Figs.
2.1–2.2) and sketch drawings. Beside Jiří Musil and the present author, the third
member of the expedition was Pavel Beran, a student of Arabic language at the
same faculty, who acted as translator, and the fourth was Marie Dufková from
the National Museum of Prague, where the photographic documentation of
Hrozný’s excavations at Sheikh Sa’ad is now stored (cf. Bouzek et al. 2008).
1 The objects and statutes are kept in the collections of the National Gallery in Prague and are
currently exhibited in the Polabské Museum – Museum of Bedřich Hrozný in his birthplace
of Lysá nad Labem; others are in the National Archaeological Museum in Damascus.

34 Bouzek
Figure 2.1 Photo of the mosque at Sheikh Sa’ad 1924.

Photo by bedřich hrozný (National Museum – Náprstek Museum of
Asian, African and American Cultures, Inv. No. N 87)
Figure 2.2 Photo of the mosque at Sheikh Sa’ad 1924, with the ruins of the “Sanctuary”.
Photo by bedřich hrozný (National Museum – Náprstek Museum of
Asian, African and American Cultures, Inv. No. N 180)
Figure 2.3 Sheikh Sa’ad 2008, showing the decay of the “Sanctuary” building. Sideview of
Fig. 2.4.
Photo by jan bouzek
Figure 2.4 Sheikh Sa’ad 2008, showing the decay of the “Sanctuary” building. The same view
angle as in Fig. 2.2 by Hrozný.
Photo by jan bouzek

36 Bouzek
Figure 2.5 Sheikh Sa’ad 2008, showing the decay of the “Sanctuary” building. Detail of the
remains in Fig. 2.4, originally hidden at the back of the structure in Fig. 2.2 by
Hrozný.
Photo by jan bouzek
The site of Sheikh Sa’ad is now surrounded by an enlarged village, with sev-
eral houses situated close to the ruins. A large part of the nave of the Early
Christian temple has collapsed (according to the villagers, as early as the
1930s), but we were able to compare the present state with the old photo-
graphs taken by Hrozný, which gives some clues to enable us to interpret
what he was still able to see. The underground spaces, one with (now empty)
loculi and the other with vaults (in one case decorated with floral ornaments),
make it clear that this building was a modest parallel to the temple of Kanawat
(cf. esp. Amer et al. 1982). The architectonic members decorated with floral
and similar reliefs in the Hrozný collection (Bouzek et al. 1999: Plates 15 A–C,
16–18 and very probably also Plate 14) belonged either to the decoration of the
temple, or to monuments contemporary with its construction and use (late
4th–6th century ad; cf. esp. Dentzer-Feydy 1985–1986, Dentzer-Feydy 1989).
The statues of Victory (Bouzek et al. 1999: Plates 1–6, 24: 3)2 may well date
from the 3rd century, the “Golden Age” of the Hauran part of the province of
2 The last item is exhibited in the Damascus museum.

Arabia, especially under the emperors Alexander Severus (222–235) and

Philippus Arabus (244–249). The funeral busts (Bouzek et al. 1999: Plates 9–11)
date from roughly the same period, as do other pre-Christian statues of rough-
ly the same style: the torso of Eros (Bouzek et al. 1999: Plate 7 A–C) and the
fragments of female figures in high relief (Bouzek et al. 1999: 11, SS 8, Plates 8
A–B and 12, SS 12, 12 A–B), though the exact chronology of Hauran sculpture
is not yet known in the same detail as that of Palmyra (cf. esp. Boleli 1985–
1986: 311–372; Abel 1956–1957: 1–13; Dentzer and Dentzer-Feydy 1991). The base
with the remains of a foot and letters (Bouzek et al. 1999: Plate 19 A–B) is
roughly of the same date, while other inscriptions sketched by Hrozný at
Sheikh Sa’ad and kept in the National Archaeological Museum in Damascus
date from the Hellenistic, Roman and later periods. They are written in the
Greek, Aramaic, Phoenician (?) and Hebrew languages (Bouzek et al. 1999:
17–19, Figures 3–7).3
A mighty structure below the Roman temple construction was termed by
Hrozný the “Terrace au Lion”, and he may well be right in connecting this
structure with the formerly discovered “(neo-)Hittite” lion since its lower part,
reached by Hrozný’s digs, was indeed of earlier date. Since the discovery of the
new Neo-Hittite finds on the citadel of Aleppo (Khayyata and Kolhmayer
1998: 69–95, esp. 89–95, Plates 21–24), the known monuments of Neo-Hittite
art have come closer to the art of southern Syria, and the fragmentary relief in
the National Gallery of Prague (Bouzek et al. 1999: 12, SS 13, Plate 13) may thus
well have been originally part of a Neo-Hittite orthostat. The new dating of
later Neo-Hittite sculpture allows one to accept a continuous development
from the Bronze to the Iron Age (Orthmann 2002: 153–157 with further
bibliography).4
2 Tell Erfad
The excavations at Tell Erfad were different. No visible architecture was on the
surface, and here Hrozný laid his trenches to find out what lay underneath. He
tried to excavate some sections of the city wall, too, but he postponed this task,
and in the end never really started. Six trenches were thus opened on the
3 The Greek inscriptions have been treated by Radislav Hošek, the Aramaic, Phoenician and
Hebrew by Stanislav Segert and Yona Sabar.
4 On Sheikh Sa’ad, see now also Charvát 2015 and Meynersen 2015.

38 Bouzek
southern slope of the tell. On October 17 he started with trench South ii, and
on November 20 with trench South vi. The planned trenches South iii, iv
and v were finally not opened at all. On the western slope, he excavated during
both seasons in the sounding “West” directed E–W. On the northwest slope,
Hrozný opened Trench North i on October 21, and North ii on October 24. The
peak number of workmen was reached on October 31; on this day he started a
trench towards the east from the top of the hill. Later Hrozný wanted to follow
the city wall, but his digs were interrupted and he did not have enough time to
realize the enlargement of his project. On the northern slope, he opened two
trenches as late as April 21, 1925.
The finds from Tell Erfad from Bedřich Hrozný’s excavations in 1924 and 1925
(Hrozný 1926) were obtained by him from the then Syrian authorities as his
share of what he excavated on the tell; the more important objects were given
to the National Museum of Damascus (Nováková 1971: 15–18). Hrozný’s collec-
tion was first kept in the Oriental Seminar of Charles University, but later was
mostly ceded to the Oriental Department of the National Gallery. His note-
books remained in the Charles University Institute for Ancient Near Eastern
Studies, while most of the negatives went to the Náprstek Museum, also in
Prague. A large part of the collection was destroyed during a fire in 1969 in the
castle of Benešov nad Ploučnicí, where it was temporarily kept, and many ob-
jects bear the traces of this secondary burning. A smaller part, which was lent
to the Bedřich Hrozný Museum in Lysá nad Labem, survived much better. To-
day, the most important finds from Hrozný’s digs at Tell Erfad are the preserved
small finds.
It is not easy to reconstruct precisely the course of the excavations, but they
lasted several weeks in both seasons, and, as the later British excavations have
shown, the earliest levels were probably not reached in most parts of the digs
(Seton-Williams 1961; Seton-Williams 1967).5 Most of the material kept in
Prague dates from the Assyrian, Graeco-Persian, Hellenistic and Early Roman
periods, but earlier finds are also represented.
Nea Nováková prepared in the late 1960s the publication of the terracottas
from Tell Erfad (Nováková 1971), of which a brief preliminary report by J.
Krušina-Černý appeared in 1958 (Krušina-Černý 1958). In the 1980s, after fin-
ishing the publication of Antonín Salač’s excavations in Kyme and Samothra-
ce, we formed a group to prepare the Tell Erfad materials kept in the Oriental
5 Seton-Williams distinguished the Hellenistic and Roman Level i (4th c. bc–1st c. ad), the
Persian Level i A (6th–5th c. bc), the Assyrian/Aramean Level ii (9th–7th c. bc), the late
second millennium Level iii, and three earlier Levels iv–vi.

Department of the National Gallery, but some members of the team had other
projects or a different life after 1989, so the project was much delayed. Our
excavations in Beirut in 1996, however, gave us a deeper insight into the prob-
lems of Lebanese and Syrian Hellenistic and Early Roman materials, and the
project was renewed. The present author was able to prepare the section deal-
ing with “Graeco-Persian”, Hellenistic and Early Roman pottery (Fig. 2.6) dur-
ing several stays in Athens and in the library of the French Institute of Beirut,
and he would like to express his gratitude for their hospitality both to the
French School at Athens and the French Institute at Beirut. The classification
of the three Rhodian amphora handles is by the late Virginia Grace (Fig. 2.7).
Ladislav Boháč kindly contributed to this project with his study of Hellenistic
and Early Roman lamps (Fig. 2.8) and glass from the collection (Boháč et al.
1997; Boháč and Bouzek 1999).6
Figure 2.6 Tell Erfad. Imported Hellenistic pottery: 1) Megarian Bowl fragment; 2) white
painted “West Slope” fragment (after Boháč et al. 1997: Fig. 4)
6 On Tell Erfad, see also Nováková 2015.

40 Bouzek
Figure 2.7 Tell Erfad. Imported stamped amphora handles (after Boháč et al. 1997: Fig. 2)
3 Conclusion
As a philologist and epigraphist, both in Sheikh Sa’ad and in Tell Erfad Hro-
zný was primarily interested in inscriptions and other written documents.
Nevertheless, both excavations yielded important results; furthermore, he de-
scribed all he could see, and his notebooks also contain valuable sketches of
the sites and the important finds. Except for several brief preliminary reports in
Czech and one in English, Hrozný himself did not publish any more substantial

Figure 2.8 Tell Erfad. Hellenistic and Early Roman lamps (after Boháč et al. 1997: Figs. 9, 11)
reports during his lifetime, but his photographs and diaries were preserved,
and most of the objects acquired by him have now been published (cf. above
and the bibliography).
Bibliography
By Bedřich Hrozný
Hrozný, B. (1924) První výzkumná výprava československá do Orientu (The first
Czechoslovak research expedition to the Orient), Národní Listy 6.4.1924.
Hrozný, B. (1924) Ve starozákonní zemi Basan (In the Old Testament land Basan),
Národní Listy 24.8.1924.
Hrozný, B. (1924) V Kaisarii (In Caesarea), Národní Listy 24.8.1924.

42 Bouzek
Hrozný, B. (1924) Z mých potulek po Sýrii (From my trips in Syria), Národní Listy
25.12.1924.
Hrozný, B. (1926) The first Czechoslovak excavations in the Near East, Central European
Observer 4/29, 511–512.
Hrozný, B. (1926) The first Czechoslovak excavations in the Near East, Central European
Observer 4/30, 527–529.
By others
Abel, N. (1956–1957) La statuaire hauranienne, une branche provinciale de l’art romain
tardif, Annales de la Société Royale d’Archéologie de Bruxelles 49, 1–13.
Amer, G., Biscop, J.L. and Dentzer-Feydy, J. (1982) L’ensemble basilical de Qanavat
(Syrie de Sud), Syria 59, 257–275.
Boháč, L., Bouzek, J. and Grace, V. (1997) Hellenistic and Roman finds from Bedřich
Hrozný’s excavations at Tell Erfad, Syria, Parts i–ii, Eirene 33, 122–157.
Boháč, L. and Bouzek, J. (1999) Hellenistic and Roman finds from Bedřich Hrozný’s
excavations at Tell Erfad, Syria, Part iii and Addenda, Eirene 35, 47–60.
Boleli, G. (1985–1986) La sculpture à ronde bosse du caractère indigène en Syrie du Sud,
in: J.-M. Dentzer (ed.), 311–372.
Bouzek, J. (1990) La sculpture romaine des fouilles de Bedřich Hrozný à Sheikh Sa’ad,
Études et Travaux (Varsovie) 15, 87–92.
Bouzek, J., Dufková, M., Hošek, R., Ondřejová, I. and Segert S. (eds.) (1999) Corpus sig-
norum imperii Romani, Czech Republic i: Roman sculpture from Syria and Asia Minor
in Czech collections, Prague: Karolinum.
Bouzek, J., Hošek, R. and Segert, S. (1999) Sheikh Sa’ad, in: J. Bouzek et al. (eds.), 7–19.
Bouzek, J., Dufková, M. and Musil, J. (2008) Hrozný’s excavations, 1924 and visit of the
site in 2008: Sheikh Sa’ad. A preliminary report on the project of publication of Hro-
zný’s digs, Studia Hercynia 12, 98–100.
Charvát, P. (2015) The archaeological investigation by Bedřich Hrozný at Sheikh Sa’ad
in Syria, in: Š. Velhartická (ed.), 150–160.
Dentzer, J.-M. (ed.) (1985–1986) Hauran i, Recherches archéologiques sur la Syrie de Sud
à l´époque hellénistique et romaine 1–2 [Bibliothèque archéologique et historique
124], Paris: Geuthner.
Dentzer, J.-M. and Dentzer-Feydy, J. (1991) Le Djebel al-’Arab. Histoire et patrimoine du
Musée de Suweidā‘ [Guides archéologiques de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie du
Proche-Orient 1], Paris: ERC.
Dentzer-Feydy, J. (1985–1986) Décor architectonique et développement du Hauran du
ier s. av. J.-C. au viie s. après J.-C., in: J.-M. Dentzer (ed.), 261–310.
Dentzer-Feydy, J. (1989) Le décor architectural en Syrie aux époques hellénistique et
romaine. in: J.-M. Dentzer and W. Orthmann (eds.), Archéologie et histoire de la Syrie

ii: La Syrie de l’époque achéménide à l’avènement de l’Islam [Schriften zur Vorderasi-

atischen Archäologie 1], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 456–476.
Khayyata, W. and Kolhmayer, W. (1998) Die Zitadelle von Aleppo. Vorläufiger Bericht
über die Untersuchungen 1996 und 1997, Damaszener Mitteilungen 10, 69–95.
Krušina-Černý, L.J. (1958) Notes on the terracotta figurines from Tell Erfad, in: J. Frel
(ed.), Epitymbion Roman Haken, Prague: Sumptibus Societatis Archaeologicae Bo-
hemoslovenicae, 109–112.
Meynersen, F. (2015) “Im archäologischen Zukunftsland.” Bedřich Hrozný und die
späthellenistisch-kaiserzeitlichen Bildwerke aus Sheikh Sa’ad in Südsyrien, in:
Š. Velhartická (ed.), 161–180.
Nováková, N. (1971) Le terres-cuites de Tell Erfad, Vol. i, Prague, 15–18.
Nováková, N. (2015) The excavations of Bedřich Hrozný at Tell Erfad, in: Š. Velhartická
(ed.), 181–198.
Orthmann, W. (2002) Die Bildkunst im Übergang von der Großreichszeit zur späthethi-
tischen Periode, in: E.A. Braun-Holzinger and H. Matthäus (eds.), Die nahöstlichen
Kulturen und Griechenland an der Wende vom 2. zum 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr.: Kontinu-
ität und Wandel von Strukturen und Mechanismen kultureller Interaktion. Kolloqui-
um des Sonderforschungsbereiches 295 “Kulturelle und sprachliche Kontakte” der
Johannes-Gutenberg-Universität Mainz, 11.–12. Dezember 1998, Möhnesee: Bibliopo-
lis, 153–157.
Seton-Williams, M.V. (1961) Preliminary report on the excavations at Tell Rifa’at, Iraq
23, 68–87.
Seton-Williams, M.V. (1967) The excavations at Tell Rifa’at 1964: Second preliminary
report, Iraq 29, 16–33.
Velhartická, Š. (ed.) (2015) Bedřich Hrozný a 100 let chetitologie – Bedřich Hrozný and 100
Years of Hittitology, Praha: Národní Galerie v Praze.

Chapter 3
Hrozný and the Decipherment of Hieroglyphic

Luwian
J.D. Hawkins
Abstract
In contrast to his universally acclaimed identification of Hittite in 1915, Bedřich

Hrozný’s efforts to decipher the Hieroglyphic Luwian script are widely considered to
have had only limited success. However, a reappraisal of the history of decipherment
demonstrates that Hrozný and his contemporaries Meriggi, Gelb, Forrer, and Bossert,
at first independently but increasingly building upon each other’s results, had reached
a broad consensus on the phonetic readings of most signs already by 1935. His work lay
most notably in smaller details, such as the correct evaluation of single signs, as also
acknowledged by his fellow decipherers. Together with his careful preparation of edi-
tions of Hieroglyphic texts, for which he travelled to Anatolia and Syria in 1934, these
pioneering contributions thus establish Hrozný as one of the important figures in the
early period of Hieroglyphic Luwian studies.
Keywords
Bedřich Hrozný – Hieroglyphic Luwian – Hittite – cuneiform – history of research –

Emirgazi
1 Prologue
It was a great pleasure on this occasion and at this location to present this
paper reassessing one aspect of B. Hrozný’s contribution to Hittite studies,
namely his work on the decipherment of the “Hittite Hieroglyphs” (as the
script was then known; now “Anatolian Hieroglyphs”). My wish is to correct
an unfair judgement on his achievement in this field, which appears in the
standard reference work, the Reallexikon der Assyriologie und vorderasiatisch-
en Archäologie (iv/6–7, 1975), in the brief entry “Hrozný” by J. Klíma. He
wrote:

Hrozný and the Decipherment of Hieroglyphic Luwian 45
Die weiteren Bemühungen Hrozný’s [sc. after “Die Lösung des hethitisch-
en Problems”] um Entzifferung der hethitischen Hieroglyphen und der
kretischen Schrift haben zwar zur Zusammenstellung des entsprechen-
den inschriftlichen Materials beigetragen, blieben aber sonst ohne
Erfolg.
An examination of Hrozný’s contribution – at least insofar as it relates to the

Hittite Hieroglyphs – shows this judgement to be wide of the mark. Here we
may also quote the assessment of J. Friedrich (1957: 97):
Meriggi, Gelb, Forrer and Bossert were the ones who brought the whole
undertaking on to more solid soil about 1930 … [Friedrich goes on to cite
the single main contribution of each] It is difficult to appraise the inde-
pendent contribution of Hrozný, already known to the reader as the suc-
cessful first investigator of cuneiform Hittite, who also began to work on
hieroglyphic Hittite in 1932.
One may ask why this appraisal was difficult?
It may be thus useful here to summarise briefly the situation as regards the
Hieroglyphic inscriptions from their discovery and early attempts at decipher-
ment in the period 1870–1920. For more details, see Hawkins 2000: 6–9.
In the middle part of the 19th century, rock reliefs from across Anatolia were
beginning to be reported to European scholars. These sculptures were often
accompanied by inscriptions in a Hieroglyphic script, usually much eroded.
From 1870 onwards, dressed stone monuments showing the same script were
beginning to be collected in the Imperial Ottoman Museum in Constantino-
ple, and to be published in academic journals and monographs in Europe.
They came from such centres as Hama (central Syria), the Tyanitis and Maraş
(southern Turkey) and the site identified as Karkamiš (on the Euphrates). By
1876 A. Sayce was able to designate these as “Hittite”, combining biblical refer-
ences to a people, the ḥtym, with the toponyms found in then recently deci-
phered Egyptian and Assyrian records (Egyptian ḫt’, then transcribed “Kheta”,
Assyrian Hatti). In 1900 Messerschmidt published his Corpus Inscriptionum
Hettiticarum (with supplements 1902 and 1906), which collected over 30 stone
inscriptions and a number of inscribed seals (mostly surviving as impressions
on clay).
Meanwhile the progress of discoveries led inexorably to the central Anato-
lian site at the village of Boğazköy, already noted for its massive ruins and its
rock reliefs, and known from c. 1890 also as a source of Cuneiform tablets.

46 Hawkins
German excavations here, 1906–1912, garnered among other discoveries a mas-

sive haul of clay tablets, which turned out to be the royal archives of the capital
city of Hatti, written in Babylonian Cuneiform in the Akkadian language and
the then unknown language of the kingdom.
After the premature death of the excavator, the philologist H. Winckler, the
Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaft, faced with responsibility of publishing the tab-
lets, commissioned several scholars to undertake the task, among them Hro-
zný, then lecturer and professor at the University of Vienna. He worked on the
tablets in the Ottoman Museum from April 1914 until the outbreak of the First
World War forced him to return to his post in Vienna. He had copied a number
of tablets (fig. 3.1), which were later published as Keilschrifttexte aus Boghazköi
v and vi (1921), and had permission to edit the tablets on which he had been
working. His interest concentrated on the main language of Hatti (Hittite to
us), readable (in Cuneiform) but otherwise unknown, and in 1915 he was able
to publish in preliminary form his demonstration of its Indo-European rela-
tionship and the resulting readings of text passages (mdog 56, 17–50). This was
followed by a detailed treatment in his Die Sprache der Hethiter (BoSt 1–2
[1916–1917]).
The reading, publication and academic edition of the Hittite texts made
massive progress during the 1920s: publication in the series Keilschrifttexte aus
Boghazköi i–vi (1916–1923) and Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi i–xxv
(1921–1930), as well as editions in the series BoSt 3–10 (1919–1924) and MVAeG
(1925–1933). By this time the vast access of Hittitological material opened the
door to a renewed effort on the decipherment of the Hieroglyphs, where lack
of progress had apparently led to a dead end. It is true that Sayce’s recognition
of the Hieroglyphic equivalents of the Cuneiform logograms “king” and “coun-
try” on the digraphic “Tarkondemos” seal had permitted the identification of
the toponyms Hamath, Tuwana, Gurgum (modern Maraş) and Karkamiš on
the Hieroglyphic inscriptions from these centres. This could have led (as it
later did) to the progressive allocation of syllabic values to the signs writing the
toponyms, but while several correct readings were proposed, they were accom-
panied by too many erroneous ones which stalled the whole process. But now
that Boğazköy and the reading of Hittite had provided so much background
information, the decipherment could be restarted on a much-expanded basis.
2 Decipherment: the First Successful Phase
During the 1930s five scholars working initially independently but gradually
combining to debate, correct and build on each other’s efforts resumed the
task of decipherment: they were P. Meriggi (1930), I.J. Gelb (1931), E. Forrer

Figure 3.1 Hrozný’s copy of the Hittite Laws, §§xxxiv–xxxix (KBo vi 4 iv 1–35): reproduced
from Bossert, Altanatolien (Abb. 727)

48 Hawkins
(1932), Th. Bossert (1932) and B. Hrozný (1933) – the dates in brackets refer to
the earliest publication of each on the subject (for their photographs cf.
Hawkins 2000, chli I/3 frontispiece). It will be seen that Hrozný was the latest
entrant of the study, and indeed he acknowledges the contributions of all the
others in his introductions (1933: 7–8), so he had their earliest proposals before
him and drew on them. His aim as he sets it out was “de réviser les lectures
jusqu’à présent proposées pour les principaux signes de cette écriture,
d’eliminer les lectures fausses, de proposer des lectures nouvelles…” In other
words, he intended to offer a detailed critique of the progress so far, which in-
deed he gives in his treatment of the principal phonetic signs (1933: ch. iv,
99–117), where he tabulates the sign forms, his own readings and cross-
references to his discussion earlier in the text of the readings of others.
It is presumably for this reason that J. Friedrich found it “difficult to appraise
the independent contribution of Hrozný” (see above). He could not be credit-
ed, as the others were by Friedrich, with single major discoveries: his work lay
in the smaller details, the correct evaluation of single signs, where he was in-
deed often right, as later acknowledged by his fellow decipherers. For example,
Hrozný identified in the texts the words for “horn”, “dog” and “horse”, each writ-
ten with the crucial sign L.448, to which he allocated on philological grounds
the value ku, to give the words kurni, kuwani- and akuwi-. He was in principle
right in his identifications (Hrozný 1934: 129 n. 3, 149 n. 2; 1937: 358), though the
exact character of the consonant has remained uncertain: Hrozný proposed
ku; Meriggi cu, Gelb su (1937: 19–20), Laroche sù? (1960: 231), supported by Mit-
telberger (1962: 278) and Hawkins (2000: 35–36); and Melchert zú (1987) on
phonetic grounds (PIE *k̂ > Luwian z), which is now supported by some Cune-
iform-Hieroglyphic correspondences and is generally accepted.
It is clear that by 1935 the five decipherers, acting almost as an unofficial
team, had reached a broad degree of consensus on the phonetic readings large-
ly correct or nearly so, but with sufficient erroneous readings of important
signs, especially i, ῑ / a, ā (actually zi, za / i, ia), to obscure the character of the
underlying language (see fig. 3.2). At the same time, lack of evidence on the
vocabulary rendered attempts at translations a matter of guess-work and gen-
erally premature.
The decipherers made individual visits to Turkey to inspect for themselves
the inscriptions, mainly in museums. In Hrozný’s case, he travelled in July–
November 1934 from Istanbul and Ankara by Kayseri all the way to Aleppo. On
this trip, in addition to photographs and copies of already published texts, he
produced editiones principes of the inscriptions ERKILET 1 and 2, BOYBEYPI-
NARI 1 and 2, and “CARCHEMISH i, ii, iii” (now KARKAMIŠ A24a2+3,
ANKARA 1 and KARKAMIŠ A20a1). Here too he made the first usable texts of

Figure 3.2 Table of the decipherers’ syllabic values, 1930–1935: black = correct; green =
almost correct; red = incorrect

50 Hawkins
the EMIRGAZI altars A, C and D. His work from this trip was published in
1937.
Hrozný’s work on the Hieroglyphs was mostly presented initially as lectures,

often to the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres in Paris and read there by
René Dussaud, and then published in the journal Archiv Orientální. These were
subsequently collected and republished in his Les inscriptions hittites hiero-
glyphiques (ihh, I [1933], ii [1934] and iii [1937], including the material of his
1934 Anatolian journey). This last made available good new photographs taken
by him, and he also collated all the inscriptions which he saw and made his
own hand copies. He did not have a naturally neat drawing hand and his copies
may appear somewhat rough, yet they are generally quite accurate: we may
compare these with his Cuneiform copies, of which the same may be said (see
fig. 3.1). We may also compare Gelb’s more sophisticated technique in produc-
ing copies for his Hittite Hieroglyphic Monuments (1939: vii–viii), in which he
drew the inscriptions in Indian ink on to photographs, which were then
bleached out.
Further, Hrozný in a remarkable display of the printer’s art had a Hiero-
glyphic type created for each inscription edited by him so that they could be
presented in a linear arrangement. This was done by drawings from photo-
graphs done by Karel Dyrynk, technical director of the Czech Státní Tiskárna
[State Printing Works of Securities], which were then carefully controlled by
Hrozný himself. The accuracy of the representation of each sign is such that
these type-set texts are still useful for reference (see below, fig. 3.5).
As an example of Hrozný’s work, I present his treatment of the EMIRGAZI
altar A text (EMIRGAZI 1, §§1–26 in my current numeration). These four piec-
es of a duplicate text offered a formidable problem to the would-be reader on
account of the somewhat eroded state of the relief signs. Hrozný was the first
to publish relatively clear photographs of the different sides of each monu-
ment. In support of my judgement of his work I give (1) my own photographs
of altar A (fig. 3.3); (2) his hand copy of the altar A text set against my own,
where I have marked in red the necessary corrections to his texts and high-
lighted the corresponding areas on my text (fig. 3.4); (3) a passage of his type-
set composite text (§§7–12 in my numeration), also with necessary corrections
in red and the occasional non-existent signs marked x (fig. 3.5). It will be seen
that the bits needing correction both in his hand-copy and in the type-set text
are all in areas which he has shaded to indicate damage and lack of definition.
While his copy was clearly drawn free-hand, my own was traced on acetate
wrapped around the stone and with the aid of a photographic lamp. We may, I
think, agree in judging his EMIRGAZI treatment as a good first attempt on a

Figure 3.3 EMIRGAZI altar A: photographs D. Hawkins
very difficult text. Of his attempted translation, however, one must admit that,
given the degree of reading and understanding Hieroglyhic then current, it was
altogether premature.
That Hrozný on his 1934 itinerary did not confine himself to museum work
but ventured out into the somewhat primitive conditions of the Anatolian
countryside is shown by his work on the rock inscriptions, TOPADA (ihh iii:
370–371, pl. liii) and SUVASA, illustrated by his own, very atmospheric photo-
graphs of the local villages, villagers and transport (buggies and carts), and we
see Hrozný himself on a ladder working on the TOPADA inscription (fig. 3.6).
He published good photographs of a cast in Beirut Museum, but also his usual
type-set linear arrangement (the sign types as usual rendered with a high de-
gree of accuracy, see ihh iii: 370–371).
All the contents of Hrozný’s ihh discussed above presumably fall under Klíma’s
heading “Zusammenstellung des entsprechenden inschriftlichen Materials”.

52 Hawkins
Figure 3.4 EMIRGAZI altar A: above, Hrozný’s copy (ihh iii: pl. lxxvii); below, Hawkins’
copy. Corrections to Hrozný’s text in red, corresponding passages in Hawkins
highlighted.
Above, I have characterized Hrozný’s translation of EMIRGAZI as “prema-

ture”, and the same would apply to most of his ihh translations. However, if
we look at his efforts on some of the more straightforward inscriptions, espe-
cially those of Karkamiš, we may take a more positive view. By way of example
I offer the beginning of his translations of KARKAMIŠ A2(+3), §§1–9, from
ihh ii (1934), pp. 204–205. It is presented in his usual style: text in type-set
linear arrangement (very faithful to the original), transliteration and transla-
tion (fig. 3.7). On the transliteration and translation, I have marked in red the
emendations required by our present state of knowledge. Although these may
appear substantial, they mostly reflect the progress made by those notable ad-
vances, the discovery of the KARATEPE bilingual, the “New Readings”, and
the identification of the negative (see below). The plateau of decipherment

Figure 3.5 Extract from Hrozný’s text of emirgazi 1, §§7–12 (ihh iii: 408–409) with
corrections in red
reached by Hrozný at this date, largely shared with his fellow decipherers, can
by no means be described as “ohne Erfolg”. We may compare the remarks of
Meriggi (1934: 15–17) on the differences and convergences of the various

54 Hawkins
Figure 3.6 Hrozný at Topada (ihh iii: pl. LI (lower))
a ttempts. Already by 1934, the decipherers were taking note of each other’s
published proposals in a manner which was developing into team-work, and so
it continued through to their latest publications in this phase of the decipher-
ment (Meriggi 1937; Hrozný 1937; Gelb 1942).
3 Epilogue
It is perhaps appropriate to conclude this assessment of Hrozný’s contribution

to the decipherment of Anatolian Hieroglyphs with a brief summary of prog-
ress since his time up to the present, which has been largely dependent on new
discoveries bringing new evidence.
3.1 The KARATEPE Bilingual

Discovered in 1946 by Th. Bossert and H. Çambel, and published in instalments
1948–1956 by the former (incomplete at the time of his death in 1960), this
great Hieroglyphic-Phoenician bilingual of 75 clauses both confirmed much of
the decipherment of the 1930s, and provided a massive increase of knowledge
of the vocabulary by its translations (cf. Melchert 2003: pls. ii b–c). By the time
of the initial publication, Hrozný’s health was already declining, leading to his
death in 1952. His obituaries note that he maintained his academic interests
Figure 3.7 Hrozný’s edition of KARKAMIŠ A2, §§ 1–9 (ihh ii: 204–205) with emendations in red

56 Hawkins
Figure 3.8 Meskene digraphic seal impressions (top, cylinder; lower, two signets; bottom
right, stamp): after Beyer 2001: pl. 1, Tablette 7
almost to the end, so he was doubtless aware of this momentous breakthrough,

but as far as I am aware he left no record of his reaction to it.
3.2 The Digraphic Seals of Ras Shamra and Meskene

The French excavations at Ras Shamra in the seasons 1953–1954 recovered the
Archive Sud in courtyard V of the Palais Royal, containing state documents, let-
ters and treaties, which illustrate the relationship of the kings of Ugarit with
their overlords, the Hittite Great Kings of Hattusa and their viceroys, the kings of
Karkamiš. These tablets bear many validating seal impressions of the kings and
their officers, and these are often digraphic, giving the seal-holder’s name writ-
ten in Cuneiform equivalents of Hieroglyphic signs. These confirmed many
readings of the 1930s, corrected others and contributed new values. See
Laroche 1956; Hawkins 2013. For illustrations see for example Nougayrol 1956:
pls. xxiii and lxxx; Schaeffer 1956: figs. 36, 37, 79.
Further French excavations at Meskene 1972–1976 recovered some 1.000 tab-
lets (fig. 3.8) from the archives of the rulers of Emar, with a much larger number
of digraphic seal impressions with many more Cuneiform-Hieroglyphic equiv-
alents, greatly extending the repertoire of Hieroglyphic values. See Laroche
1981, 1982, 1983; Beyer 2001; Hawkins 2017.

3.3 The “New Readings”

Curiously, neither KARATEPE nor the Ras Shamra digraphic seals provided
unambiguous evidence on the most crucial Hieroglyphic signs, the two pairs
and (L.376, 377 and L.209, 210) read since the 1930s as i, ī and a, ā. But
new evidence appeared in 1969 with the publication of pithoi from the U rartian
site of Altıntepe by T. Özgüç (1969). On these the usual measures elsewhere
written in Cuneiform were written in (Anatolian) Hieroglyphs, and the sign
was found to have a Cuneiform correspondence si, thus to represent not a
vowel but consonant+vowel (see fig. 3.9). This suggested that the signs former-
ly read as i, ī and a, ā should be re-evaluated as zi, za and i, ia (Hawkins, Mor-
purgo Davies and Neumann 1974). Much supporting evidence could be ad-
duced; but most crucially the effect of these “new readings” was to bring the
language of the Hieroglyphs into almost complete congruence with Luwian
written in the Cuneiform script (fig. 3.10). Henceforth it was possible to refer to
Hieroglyphic Luwian alongside Cuneiform Luwian, and this is now accepted
by all serious scholars. Corroborating evidence was almost immediately forth-
coming from a Meskene digraph (Laroche 1976, the name Amzahi; cf. fig. 3.11).
3.4 The Negatives

Almost as an appendix to the “new readings”, new evidence became available
showing that the sign L. 332 previously mistaken for a form of the relative
pronoun L.329, had the value na and represented the factual negative “not”
(Hawkins 1975). In fact, the KARATEPE bilingual should have established this,
but by a cruel mischance both attestations of the sign occurred in (negative)
relative clauses (§§ xxi, xxvi), so the proper equivalence Hieroglyphic NEGA-
TIVE = Phoenician bl “not” was missed. This recognition of the factual nega-
tive of course reverses the sense of every clause in which it appears.
Figure 3.9 Altıntepe pithoi and their capacity measures: from Hawkins apud Bordreuil et al.
2013: 85

58 Hawkins
Figure 3.10 The “New Readings”
3.5 Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions (chli)

In the fifty years after the discovery of KARATEPE, new Hieroglyphic inscrip-
tions continued to be found and published on a regular basis, and over 30 ma-
jor inscriptions and many minor ones and fragments became available. My
chli volume I (published in the year 2000) included all the Iron Age inscrip-
tions (1000–700 bc) then known as well as another group now recognized as
“transitional” (1200–1000 bc). chli volume ii by H. Çambel under my editor-
ship, published in 1999, gave the final publication of the KARATEPE bilingual.
The publication and (re)edition of the Empire inscriptions, some 40 pieces,
has had to wait for chli volume iii (part 1), which I am currently completing
and hope to send to the printer soon. This also includes new Transitional and
Iron Age inscriptions which have appeared since 2000, over 30 pieces, some of
major length and importance (part 2). Further, I give a complete Syllabary
(part 3), discussing each sign and the evidence for its reading. An Addenda and
Corrigenda to chli i and ii takes into account new developments and

Figure 3.11 Some syllabic values of Hieroglyphs established by Meskene digraphs: taken from
a transparency used in a lecture by Laroche 1976 and given to the author (after
Hawkins 2013)
perceptions since 2000, and notes small and not so small errors in the translit-
erations and translations (part 4).
It is very gratifying to see the interest in Luwian awakened by chli and the
number of young scholars keen to take on this research into the future. It is
clear that things will not stand still in Luwian studies, but new discoveries, new
evidence and interpretations will continue apace. So, at this point it is good to
remember our intellectual forebears, including Hrozný, who in the 1930s set us
on the path which has led to where we are today.

60 Hawkins
4 Postscript
At a Colloquium to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the decipherment

of the Hittite language held in Istanbul Archaeological Museum 14–15
November 2015, Š. Velhartická read a paper “Bedřich Hrozný, the decipherer of
the Hittite language”. This was published in M. Doğan-Alpaslan, A. Schachner
and M. Alpaslan (ed.), The Discovery of an Anatolian Empire (Istanbul 2017). In
it she reported recent discoveries of much archival material of Hrozný’s work
and correspondence.
At another conference, Beyond all Boundaries: Anatolia in the 1st Millennium
B.C., held at Ascona, Switzerland, 17–22 June 1918, Velhartická reported the dis-
covery of further material and correspondence, particularly between Hrozný
and the other decipherers of the Anatolian hieroglyphs. It is clear that this
material has the potential to illustrate in much fuller detail Hrozný’s own con-
tribution to the decipherment.
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denhoeck & Ruprecht.
Bossert, H.T. (1932) Šantaš und Kupapa [MAOG vi/3], Leipzig: Harrassowitz.
Forrer, E.O. (1932) Die hethitische Bilderschrift [SAOC 3], Chicago: University of Chica-
go Press.
Friedrich, J. (1957) Extinct Languages, London: Peter Owen.
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sity of Chicago Press.
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Chicago Press.
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Berlin, New York: de Gruyter.
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in Göttingen, 1. Philologisch-historische Klasse, 1973/6], Göttingen: Vandenhoeck

& Ruprecht.
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22, 5–14.
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Warren Cowgill, Berlin, New York: de Gruyter, 182–204.
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zu sämtlichen Texten [MVAeG 39/1], Leipzig: Hinrichs.
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sion de Ras Shamra IX], Paris: Imprimerie Nationale.
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Yayınlarından 5], Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi.
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Shamra viii], Paris: Geuthner.

Chapter 4
Bedřich Hrozný and the Aegean Writing Systems:

An Early Decipherment Attempt
Artemis Karnava
Abstract
Before Bedřich Hrozný concluded his scientific career in the 1940s, he became
interested, among other scripts, in the 2nd millennium bc Aegean writing systems,
most notably Linear A and Linear B. There is archival evidence nowadays that his
interest was lively for a number of years, even after his acute health problems in the
mid-1940s. His interest culminated in a proposed decipherment of Linear B, which was
harshly criticized by scholars such as Helmuth Bossert (1944), Alice Kober (1946), Spyr�-
idon Marinatos (1947) and Emmett Bennett (1950). The reviews concentrated on both
dubious recognitions of phonetic values of signs, as well as the historical arguments
that were used by Hrozný to support his suggestion and his lumping together of Linear
A and B as representing a single Indo-European language.
This paper aims to examine the phonetic transcriptions and the historical evalua-
tions proposed by Hrozný at the time, in view of what we now know of the Aegean
writing systems in particular and the Mycenaean civilization in general. His decipher-
ment proposal was one of the first to be presented to the public and built upon the
extremely limited Linear B material published at the time. His study of this material
was based on the assumption that the Minoan culture was in close contact and affinity
with Near Eastern cultures, a belief then widespread. An additional clue that led him
astray was the fact that simple, ‘linear’ signs, such as the ones used in Aegean writing,
were very similar to signs attested in the Egyptian writing systems, in the Anatolian
hieroglyphs, the Indus script and even the Phoenician alphabet. This paper thus aims
to insert Hrozný’s decipherment attempt into the intellectual circumstances of his era
and evaluate its position in the history of the decipherment of the Linear B writing
system.
Keywords
Hrozný – Aegean writing systems – decipherment – Linear B

Bedřich Hrozný and the Aegean Writing Systems 63
1 Introduction
In a conference aiming to celebrate the 100th jubilee of a major scholarly

achievement, it might seem unbecoming to bring into the discussion a facet of
that scholar’s work that went amiss. Yet it was the same scholar who contrib-
uted to a scientific breakthrough in one field but then offered a false solution
in another. So, there is even perhaps a cautionary tale to be told when investi-
gating the dynamics of success and failure at work in one and the same person.
Additionally, from the epistemological and historical point of view, achieving
a great discovery or reaching a dead end are processes that by no means func-
tion in a historical vacuum; the circumstances are significant and worth taking
into consideration, in all fairness to the distinguished scholar. It is also proba-
ble that by examining the particulars as well as the broader framework, we
ourselves will benefit as scholars and realize how much we are influenced by
our own worldview and the thought patterns that are current in our times.
To begin our story, before Bedřich Hrozný concluded his career in the sev-
enth decade of his life, he demonstrated a profound interest in the 2nd millen-
nium bc Aegean writing systems. At that time, the late 1930s and early 1940s,
the writing systems employed in a great part of the area that would be identi-
fied in the subsequent millennium with Classical Greece were poorly known
and had defied numerous decipherment attempts. Among them, Linear B was
the most prominent, and its documents were the most abundantly preserved.
Hrozný’s Linear B decipherment proposal was among the first to be pre-
sented to the public and was based on the extremely limited Linear B material
published at the time. Documents in Linear A and Linear B, as well as a third
writing system that escaped Hrozný’s attention, the Cretan Hieroglyphic, were
discovered in systematic excavations for the first time in 1900; it was then that
Arthur Evans began excavating the Minoan palace of Knossos in Crete (Evans
1899–1900). Evans can be credited with the fact that he realized almost imme-
diately after his initial discovery that he was dealing with three different writ-
ing systems and managed to present the Cretan Hieroglyphs in a monograph
relatively quickly (Evans 1909); Hrozný on the other hand preferred to ignore
the fact that Linear A was a different script from Linear B and proceeded to
examine them together. Evans would spend the remainder of his career and
life publishing the excavations of the palace in four volumes (Evans 1921–1936),
where some more material and some analysis of Linear A and B appeared in
the first (1921) and fourth (1935) volumes. In the end, it was his collaborator
John Myres who published the Linear B tablets after his death (Evans 1952).
Consequently, in the 1930s and 1940s very few Linear B texts were at the disposal

64 Karnava
of scholars or the public, and this delay in publication is thought to be one of

the reasons why the actual decipherment took more than 50 years after Linear
B texts were first discovered. The other major cache of Linear B tablets from
Pylos in the Peloponnese was discovered in 1939 (Kourouniotis and Blegen
1939), but they quickly became unavailable for study due to the outbreak of
World War ii.
2 Hrozný and the Aegean Scripts
Hrozný (1879–1952), of Czech origin and a native of Bohemia, a part of the

Austro-Hungarian Empire at the time, did his undergraduate studies in Berlin
and received his doctoral degree in Vienna. After working for years at the Vi-
enna University Library, he became professor at the same university in 1905,
only to move in 1918 to the Charles University of Prague as a professor as soon
as Czechoslovakia was declared an independent state; he subsequently be-
came a rector at the same university (Matouš 1949; David 1953).
It seems that most of the work Hrozný carried out on the Aegean scripts
took place before his acute health problems in the mid-1940s. He published his
investigations as a decipherment attempt in two lengthy articles. It is not clear
when exactly he started working on the decipherment, or what prompted him
specifically to engage in such an endeavour, but the first results were already
incorporated in a monograph he published in 1940, where he dealt primarily
with the prehistory of Anatolia (Hrozný 1940). He subsequently mentions that
it was in the course of this investigation that he realized how much influence
Western Anatolian cultures of the 3rd and 2nd millennium bc had exerted on
Crete, the birthplace of the Aegean writing systems (Hrozný 1949: 1).
The first article appeared in a journal of which he himself was the editor, the
Archivum Orientale Pragense (Hrozný 1943a). The article, written in German,
took up one third of the issue. The presentation starts rather abruptly with a
listing of inscriptions presumably deciphered by him, with little explanation
of the method used or the process followed. After a short introduction, where
he explains that he rejects the previous attempts to decipher Linear B1 which
1 A number of attempts had already taken place before Hrozný’s effort, the most notable being
that of A. Persson in 1930, who attributed some phonetic values on the basis of signs similar
to the Cypriot syllabary; of F.G. Gordon in 1931, who opted for the Basque language; of
F. Melian Stawell also in 1931, who opted for Greek (but unfortunately she also interpreted the
Phaistos Disc, the Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A as Greek). For all of these, see Chadwick
1958: 26–31.

were primarily based on homomorphisms of Aegean signs with signs of the

Cypriot syllabary,2 he moves on to suggest similarities between the Cretan
scripts and the Hittite Hieroglyphs—or Luwian Hieroglyphs, as they are known
today. He further posited the provenance of this latter script from the Proto-
Indus script (Parpola 1996). This is a theory he had already developed earlier in
his monograph Über die älteste Völkerwanderung und das Problem der proto-
indischen Zivilisation (Hrozný 1939) and further presented in the second edi-
tion of his Die älteste Geschichte Vorderasiens und Indiens (Hrozný 1943b). He
had also detected similarities with cuneiform and Egyptian hieroglyphs, but
most strikingly he thought there was even a connection with the Phoenician
alphabet.
In the article he presented his decipherment of 42 inscriptions, among them
a single Knossos tablet. His work was mostly based on inscriptions painted on
the inscribed so-called Mycenaean stirrup jars, vases that were destined for the
transport and storing of liquid products.3 From what we understand today (but
this was also understood back then), the inscribed stirrup jars are the worst
specimens of Linear B to start with, because they contain so many unique sign
forms and spelling mistakes that they are commonly held to be the work of
potters who were in all probability illiterate (Bennett 1986; Hallager 1987).
Hrozný continued his efforts after the war with a second article in the same
journal, which in the meantime had dropped its Latin title and was renamed in
Czech as Archiv Orientální (Hrozný 1946a). By now he remained the sole editor
of the journal. He presented inscriptions nos. 43–179, mostly tablets from
Knossos, and the occasional sealing.4 This time the language of the article had
switched to French. Both of his articles were later joined to form a book trans-
lated into French by Madeleine David (Hrozný 1949), and it is this book that
reached international audiences and received scathing reviews. The book ad-
ditionally contained the texts of some tablets from Knossos and Pylos that had
been made available to him in the meantime, as well as a Ugaritic inscription.
2 The Cypriot syllabary is a writing system that was employed in Cyprus in the 1st millen-
nium bc primarily for the recording of the Greek language. It was deciphered in 1874 and
a number of its signs showed close similarities to Linear B signs; what was not understood
at the time was that there was in fact some indirect connection between Linear B and the
Cypriot syllabary, but it was wrong to assume that signs that shared the same form be-
tween the two scripts also shared by definition the same phonetic values (Chadwick 1958:
30–34).
3 See Zurbach 2016, which contains all the previous bibliography.
4 The Minoan and Mycenaean administrations made use of clay tablets that, unlike in the cu-
neiform world, were never stamped. Clay sealings are, however, independently attested:
these were mostly stamped, but sometimes also bore incised inscriptions (Krzyszkowska
2005: passim).

66 Karnava
In the same volume of the journal, Hrozný presented the decipherment of

an inscription in the Byblos script (Hrozný 1946b).5 The Byblos inscriptions are
composed in a writing system referred to in modern scholarship as ‘pseudo-
Hieroglyphic’, known from a few inscriptions on metal and stone from Byblos
on the Syro-Palestinian coast. The inscriptions date to the first half of the 2nd
millennium bc, but very little is known and understood about this system even
today, since it is so poorly attested (Daniels 1996). Hrozný apparently felt con-
fident that he could propose a solution to this undeciphered script as well, and
so he did.
In trying to understand why and how a scholar of Oriental texts and cultures
would venture into such territory, a number of possible reasons emerge. His
interest appears, to a certain degree, explicable. For starters, attempting to
solve a problem of potentially significant historical implications does not seem
something out of character for Hrozný. From the biographical account that
was written in his honour during his lifetime by his student Lubor Matouš
(Matouš 1949), Hrozný emerges as a personality of vivid and varied interests:
besides philology, history and religion were fundamental to his research. Ad-
ditionally, it seems that his successful contribution to the decipherment of Hit-
tite Hieroglyphs (see Hawkins, this volume) had made him bold enough to
proceed further and test his intellect on a more challenging set of evidence,
one of the last undeciphered writing systems of the Eastern Mediterranean.
Nowhere in his presentation of the decipherment does he express any worry or
concern of what possible negative criticism might inflict on his reputation
or scholarly standing.
In fact, he appears so convinced of his results that he hardly makes any ref-
erence to the method of decipherment he had used, as any scholar who pres-
ents the results of a painstaking process would do. He does mention at some
point that although he had to deal with a problem of a different nature than
the Hittite decipherment, he proceeded nonetheless by use of the same
method that he had employed before (Hrozný 1949: 2). In the instance of the
Aegean scripts, both the writing as well as the language were unknown, as
opposed to Hittite, where only the language was unknown and the phonetic
values of script signs were already known. He omitted, however, any mention
of particulars regarding his method, except for calling it ‘combinatory’ and
‘comparative’.6
5 This Byblos inscription was already included in his second edition of Die älteste Geschichte
Vorderasiens und Indiens (1943b).
6 ‘Dans notre étude des inscriptions crétoises—écrites en une écriture inconnue ainsi
qu’en une langue inconnue—nous avons eu recours à la même méthode, essentiellement

But as a scholar of his time, he also kept in mind the big picture and was very
much preoccupied with matters of racial attributions, affiliations and origins.
Already at the end of the 19th century, the main explanation for how cultural
achievements and innovations spread in the world involved population move-
ments and even invasions. This was the premise of diffusionism, a theory that
repeatedly came in competition with, but at times complemented, evolution-
ary historical explanations (Trigger 1989: 148–155). The grand competing theo-
ries at the beginning of the 20th century in European scholarship are best
expressed, on one hand, through the work of the Swedish archaeologist Oscar
Montelius, who became the most prominent advocate of diffusionism by sug-
gesting that all innovations in Europe had come from the Orient (the ex oriente
lux theory, Montelius 1899). Montelius’ theories were not very popular in Ger-
man academia, where more chauvinistic and nationalistic approaches were
current. The theories of Gustaf Kossinna, who advocated ferociously in favor of
the purity and superiority of the Germanic peoples on the basis of archaeologi-
cal, material and cultural remains, were in this respect more extreme and con-
stituted the opposite end of the spectrum (Trigger 1989: 163–167). Although
Hrozný was German-trained and belonged to the German-speaking academic
environment, his choice of sides, while never expressed verbatim, is not hard
to imagine. He was a member of a linguistic and ethnic minority, on top of be-
ing an Orientalist: it is more than likely that he subscribed to diffusionist, Mon-
telian ideas and rejected the Germanocentric ‘Aryan’ approaches, which
reserved no respectful place for the Slavic minority he was part of.
Furthermore, Hrozný in his books actively engaged in supporting the Indo-
European hypothesis (Mallory 1989; Anthony 2007), in that he placed the Cre-
tans, the inventors and users of Linear A and B, from the ethnic as well as the
linguistic point of view together with the Hittites as a branch of the Indo-
European language family (esp. Hrozný 1943b: passim). By placing Hittite
hieroglyphs in direct comparison with the Proto-Indus script, he claimed a
common ethnic and linguistic background for all: Hittites, Indians and Cretans.
His theory was based on the ‘decipherments’ and the consequent readings by
him of otherwise undeciphered inscriptions from the above cultural circles, but
his arguments were rather circular. He suggested that because all these peoples
were presumably affiliated, it was this affiliation that explained superficial or
even circumstantial similarities in their writing systems; in their turn, these
similarities verified, in his opinion, the relevant readings of the inscriptions,
which verified the ethnic affiliation in the first place (see also further below).
combinatoire et comparative, que pour notre déchiffrement des inscriptions hittites-

cunéiformes, «hittites»-hiéroglyphiques, et proto-indiennes’ (Hrozný 1949: 2).

68 Karnava
3 Michael Ventris, Alice Kober and John Chadwick: the Decipherers
In the meantime, a young British architect by the name of Michael Ventris was
actively working even before the war on the decipherment of Linear B (Ventris
1940).7 As with all success stories, Ventris’s successful decipherment has been
frequently told, and many details about the steps leading to it are well known
(Chadwick 1958; Pope 1975: 159–179). Hrozný was one of the twelve scholars to
whom Ventris addressed his famous “Mid-century Report” in 1949, a question-
naire aiming to discuss the complex decipherment problems of the Aegean
scripts (Ventris 1988: 29–132). Hrozný did not reply to the questionnaire but
was always on the list of recipients of Ventris’s ‘Work Notes’, a sort of progress
report that he would send out to scholars from 1951 onwards (Ventris 1988: 133–
333). These ‘Work Notes’ eventually culminated in the successful decipher-
ment (Ventris and Chadwick 1953; Ventris and Chadwick 1973).
Before Ventris, however, another scholar, the American Alice Kober, is
known to have been active in the Linear B decipherment effort. Kober pub-
lished an article that proved to be groundbreaking, one that laid the founda-
tions for Ventris’s successful decipherment (Kober 1948). Kober’s contribution
lies in the fact that she identified Linear B as recording an inflectional lan-
guage, and, through her famous ‘triplets’, sets of three words with the same
stem but different endings, she correctly figured out the gender endings for
male and female names in Linear B. It is believed that Kober’s untimely death
in 1950 at the relatively young age of 43 prevented her from contributing fur-
ther to the decipherment.8
In Kober’s archive, which is now kept at the Program for Aegean Scripts in
the Classics Department at the University of Texas at Austin, among her cor-
respondence there are two postcards from Hrozný dating to 1947 and 1948.9
In the first postcard of 1947 (Fig. 4.1) Hrozný sends Kober the second article
of his decipherment attempt, which had been published, as previously men-
tioned, in 1946. One can imagine that in the postwar usa it was not easy to
acquire a copy of a journal published in Prague, so a direct request to the au-
thor would solve this problem. Hrozný also invites Kober to publish her work
in his journal, if she so wishes. Finally, he appears certain that the scholarly
community will eventually recognize his decipherment of the Cretan script,
7 Ventris was just 18 years old when he published his first account on the subject and report-
edly hid his age from the aja editors.
8 A biography of Kober has recently appeared, where her contribution to the decipherment is
illuminated (Fox 2013).
9 Kober’s archive has been digitized and is available from the University of Texas Libraries
online repository.

Figure 4.1 A postcard from Hrozný to Kober dated 22.9.1947 (courtesy of Tom Palaima,
Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory and the Digital Repositories of the
University of Texas at Austin Libraries)

70 Karnava
like his decipherment of the Hittite as well as the Proto-Indus script. It is thus
evident that Hrozný draws on the weight of his recognized work on Hittite to
vouch for his work on the Minoan and the Proto-Indus scripts.
In his second postcard, presumably written sometime in 1948 (Fig. 4.2), Hro-
zný thanks Kober for sending him the photograph of a tablet from Pylos, but he
complains that the photo was so bad that the writing was practically illegible.
Still, he feels that his readings of the tablet confirm some of his suggestions,
but he asks for a better photo.
Before these cards were exchanged, it is not certain whether Hrozný had
read a review Kober had published (Kober 1946) of his book (Hrozný 1943b) as
well as the first part of his decipherment (Hrozný 1943a). The review is
sharp and most clearly negative, because it focuses on Hrozný’s weakest point:
his ideological convictions. As mentioned previously, he believed that the
ancient populations that inhabited the area from the Eastern Mediterranean
and A natolia to the Indus Valley were all Indo-European and so were their
languages. In the unsuccessful effort to support his theory, Hrozný chose to
omit from his account certain areas altogether, such as Asia Minor and the
Syro-Palestinian coast, and he makes no mention of Egypt. On the basis of os-
tensible and highly subjective similarities between Hittite Hieroglyphic signs
and what is known today as the Indus or Proto-Harappan script, he deduced
that all the l anguages behind them, hence all the populations that spoke them,
were Indo-European.
Incidentally, Hrozný’s decipherment premise comes into stark contrast
with Ventris’s method. It is a well-known fact that Ventris started out his work
on the decipherment of Linear B in the belief that the language of the inscrip-
tions was non-Indo-European; instead, he favored Etruscan, and because of its
affiliation with Lemnian, i.e. the pre-Greek language of Lemnos in the Aegean,
he proposed what is known as the “Pelasgian solution”, that Linear B recorded
the language of pre-Greek populations. This theory represented current wis-
dom at the time until the decipherment of Linear B. But, as opposed to Hrozný,
who started out with the purpose of documenting a theory rather than let the
evidence guide him to it, Ventris started out with a wrong theory, which he was
flexible enough to change when the evidence became overwhelming in favour
of the opposing theory.
Kober was Hrozný’s most fearsome critic. She in fact delivered the most bru-
tal of all Hrozný’s reviews while Hrozný was still alive, as she herself admits to
a friend and colleague in a private letter found in her archive.10 In this letter,
10 ‘I read your letter first, then looked the issue over in order to get my breath and discovered
it contained my review of Hrozny. Since I never have gotten over the thrill that comes

Figure 4.2 A postcard from Hrozný to Kober dated to 1948 (courtesy of Tom Palaima,
Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory and the Digital Repositories of the
University of Texas at Austin Libraries)

72 Karnava
she appears impressed by the fact that his outrageous theories are received in
scholarship less aggressively than they deserved.
John Chadwick, the philologist who collaborated with Ventris, reserved an
equally brutal criticism for Hrozný’s fruitless attempt in the aftermath of the
successful decipherment by Ventris and himself. Chadwick was 38 years old,
i.e. relatively young, when he became the historian and narrator of his own and
Ventris’s unique triumph (Chadwick 1958: 27–28). He therefore spared no mer-
cy for an elderly and respected scholar’s defeat, and besides stressing the
obvious faults in Hrozný’s contribution, or rather his absence of method, he
even added an ad hominem attack on the by then late scholar.11
4 More Criticisms of Hrozný’s Decipherment
Further negative reviews of Hrozný’s Die älteste Geschichte Vorderasiens und

Indiens include one by the Belgian scholar Charles Delvoye (Delvoye 1949).
Delvoye lists inaccuracies and omissions committed by Hrozný with regard to
the archaeological evidence he used in his book. Hrozný had a keen interest in
archaeology and archaeological remains and had always maintained that theo-
ries should be formed and tested on the basis of holistic analysis of data, and
linguists and philologists should also take into account archaeological evi-
dence and vice versa. But in order to make his data fit his theory, he appears to
have made selective use of archaeological data as well. Delvoye delivers an im-
pressive review of Hrozný’s book in 20 pages, in which he tries to set the record
straight on a variety of research problems, such as the Neolithic pottery of
Thessaly which Hrozný compares to pottery from Jericho, thus positing a
northern derivation of Syro-Palestinian populations. He also criticizes Hro-
zný’s ‘decipherment’, for which he thinks that Hrozný got so carried away be-
cause of his vast knowledge of Mesopotamian cultures and languages, that the
Cretans were barely left enough space to demonstrate their disparity with their
eastern neighbours.
from seeing my words in print, I read it. Considering some of the reviews on the same
subject that I’ve read, that one is ferocious. Everybody seems to handle Hrozny with kid
gloves. I suppose it’s because nobody thinks a man with Hrozny’s reputation could pos-
sibly be as stupid as he seems’ (letter excerpt, written by Kober in 1947, found in Fox
2013: 92).
11 ‘The arbitrariness of Hrozný’s work is so patent that no one has taken it seriously. It is a
sad story which recurs too often in the world of scholarship: an old and respected figure
produces in his dotage work unworthy of his maturity, and his friends and pupils have not
the courage to tell him so’ (Chadwick 1958: 28).

Hrozný’s decipherment of the Linear B system was harshly criticized at the

time by further scholars, such as the German Helmuth Bossert (Bossert 1944:
247–249, 272–273), the Greek archaeologist Spyridon Marinatos (Marinatos
1947), the British archaeologist John Myres who had, among other tasks,
worked alongside Evans on the Knossos Linear B tablets (Myres 1946, 1948),
and the American scholar Emmett Bennett, who was also instrumental to the
correct decipherment (Bennett 1950). Bennett in his usual humorous and well-
intentioned manner additionally offered some words to live by for all would-be
decipherers.12
The reviews concentrated on both dubious recognitions of phonetic values
of signs, as well as the historical arguments that were used by Hrozný to sup-
port his suggestion. Especially criticized was his lumping together of both Lin-
ear A and Linear B under an interpretation as a single Indo-European language.
As a result of these reviews, but also because of the sweeping effect of Ventris
and Chadwick’s decipherment shortly afterwards, all previous decipherment
efforts were dismissed and laid to rest by the scholarly community.
5 A Concluding Appreciation of Hrozný’s Decipherment Attempt
In a list of reasons why Hrozný’s effort was unsuccessful, the first one must be
the paucity of material at the aspiring decipherer’s disposal. There were simply
not enough texts published at the time for anyone to venture into attempts at
decipherment, let alone to try and verify them afterwards. This paucity of ma-
terial is the main reason why the other 2nd millennium bc Aegean writing
systems, namely the Cretan Hieroglyphs and Linear A,13 remain undeciphered
to this day. The most recent overall count of Bronze Age Aegean texts amounts
to 6,000 documents with 70,000 signs for Linear B, 1,500 documents with 8,000
signs for Linear A and 350 documents with 3,000 signs for the Cretan
Hieroglyphs;14 the total is 7,850 documents in all these scripts combined with
81,000 signs attested, which in today’s perspective would fill a little less than 22
A4 pages in the application Word.15 At the time of Ventris and Chadwick’s
12 ‘The problem which ought to be of most interest to those who will undertake similar stud-
ies of their own is why it is that this decipherment has satisfied its author, and has not
satisfied any others’ (Bennett 1950: 81).
13 It is also likely that the Phaistos Disc represents a unique specimen of yet another 2nd
millennium bc Aegean script (Karnava 2014).
14 The numbers are from Olivier 2008: 173–174, based on a 2004 count. These totals have not
changed dramatically since then.
15 On the basis of 3,750 characters with spaces per page.

74 Karnava
d ecipherment there were even fewer Linear B documents to work with, and
Ventris seems to have struggled with some 30,000 signs at his disposal (Olivier
2008: 182).
A combination of further reasons for Hrozný’s fruitless effort was his pre-
conceived historical perceptions together with a series of methodological er-
rors. Since he himself is extremely laconic on the matter of his work methods
and procedures, it is not clear what initiated the vicious circle: did his theories
about Völkerwanderungen and technological diffusion lead him to perform se-
lective and arbitrary use of his material, or did his methodological errors lead
him to believe that his theories were grounded on credible evidence? Hrozný’s
study was based on the assumption that the Minoan and Mycenaean cultures
of the Aegean region had close affinities with further Eastern cultures, a belief
which was stretched to the extent that casual similarities in traits of material
culture were taken to be substantial and meaningful affiliations.
On the other hand, a fundamental methodological error was his reliance on
presumed sign matches between different writing systems that were evidently
totally unrelated; sign matches could, in theory, point to some relation or even
affiliation between distant scripts, but not when these matches involve simple,
‘linear’ script signs. Relatively simple signs, such as a cross (‘X’) or a rounded
sign (‘O’), can be and have been invented independently and used in totally
unrelated writing systems. A further fundamental deficiency of his study was
the absence of proper text editions, even for the few texts that were available.
A thorough and detailed study and edition of a writing system under study is
imperative, so that a researcher does not confuse signs, the phonetic value of
which changes with a single stroke (e.g. ‘O’ and ‘Q’; ‘P’ and ‘R’) or because of
divergent reading directions (e.g. ‘M’ and ‘W’; ‘b’ and ‘d’; ‘p’ and ‘q’).
Furthermore, although Hrozný is hailed as a vital contributor to the deci-
pherment of Hittite, what is meant by ‘decipherer’ in the case of reading the
Hittite language behind its cuneiform version is someone who stepped in to
interpret the language after paleographers had managed to attribute phonetic
values to the signs of the writing system. It seems that there, Hrozný’s extensive
knowledge of Indo-European and Semitic languages was the best equipment
with which to handle problems of a linguistic nature. But in the case of Linear
B, what was needed at that stage was someone who would be able to attribute
phonetic values to signs of an unknown writing system, in order for the read-
ing process to commence; the eventual recognition of the language involved
would be a further step in the process, one that was also a desideratum.16
16 See Barber 1974: 3–33 for the fundamentals of archaeological decipherments.

The attribution of proven phonetic values to script signs remains the crucial
and elementary problem faced by prospective decipherers of Linear A to this
day. Since sign form countertypes alone between two different writing systems
cannot guarantee phonetic correspondence, it is a fact that whoever proposes
to read or interpret Linear A texts on the basis of sign similarities with Linear
B is moving on thin ice.17 It is imperative that phonetic values be demonstrably
attributed to script signs, before one or more contributors can be credited with
the decipherment of an ancient writing system. Until then, the Cretan Hiero-
glyphic and Linear A scripts defy all attempts at decipherment, and in order for
someone to suggest sign readings beyond reasonable doubt, evidence other
than circumstantial clues will be required.
Bibliography
Anthony, D.W. (2007) The Horse, the Wheel and Language. How Bronze-Age Riders from
the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World, Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Barber, E.J.W. (1974) Archaeological Decipherment. A Handbook, Princeton: Princeton
University Press.
Bennett, E.L. (1950) Review of Hrozný 1949, AJA 54/1, 81–82.
Bennett, E.L. (1986) The inscribed stirrup jar and pinacology, in: Φίλια Έπη εις Γεώργιον
Ε. Μυλωνάν δια τα 60 έτη του ανασκαφικού του έργου, Vol. i, Αθήνα: Αρχαιολογική Εταιρεία,
136–143.
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Entzifferung der hethitischen Hieroglyphenschrift [Istanbuler Forschungen 17], Ber-
lin: Zweigstelle Istanbul des Archäologischen Instituts des Deutschen Reiches.
Chadwick, J. (1958) The Decipherment of Linear B, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Daniels, P.T. (1996) Pseudo-hieroglyphs of Byblos, in: P.T. Daniels and W. Bright (eds.),
29–30.
Daniels, P.T. and Bright, W. (eds.) (1996) The World’s Writing Systems, New York, Oxford:
David, M. (1953) La vie et l’œuvre de Bedřich Hrozný, RA 47, 96–100.
17 A method of establishing the approximate phonetic values of some ten signs of the Linear
A script can be found in Olivier 1975, with some additions to his catalogue by use of the
same principle in Karnava 2016.

76 Karnava
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Chapter 5
A Fruitful Collaboration between E. Sellin and

B. Hrozný during His Viennese Years:
The Cuneiform Texts from Tell Taanach and
Their Impact on Syro-Levantine Studies
Regine Pruzsinszky
Abstract
At the beginning of the 20th century, excavations at Tell Taanach, situated close to
Megiddo in the Jezre’el Valley, were initiated by the theologian and Biblical archaeolo-
gist Ernst Sellin, professor in Vienna at that time. During the campaigns between 1902
and 1904, the largest then known Canaanite corpus of cuneiform texts was discovered.
Sellin supported the then almost unknown Assyriologist Bedřich Hrozný in appointing
him as the epigraphist of the excavation, and Hrozný subsequently published the im-
portant text finds, including lists of persons and epistolary texts, dating to the mid- to
late 15th century bce. This paper provides an overview of the most important charac-
teristics of these texts and their chronological, historical and linguistic background.
Furthermore, the impact of the texts in subsequent and more current research within
Assyriology is discussed, with special focus on Hrozný’s achievements within the study
of the Syro-Levantine region in the Bronze Age.
Keywords
Late Bronze Age – Canaan – Amarna – Peripheral Akkadian – West Semitic –

Hurrian – onomastics
When I first came across the cuneiform texts from Tell Taanach, I was still a
student in Vienna and did not fully grasp their importance for the overall cu-
neiform culture. In 2006, just before the 100-year anniversary of Ernst Sellin’s
publication of the excavation results of Tell Taanach, I was asked to discuss the
onomastic evidence of the cuneiform texts from that site.1 I was struck by the
1 Pruzsinszky 2006: 99–114.

A Fruitful Collaboration between E. Sellin and B. Hrozný 79
wealth of studies that dealt with various aspects of the relatively small text
corpus.2 Today, another ten years later, I am going to discuss the Taanach tab-
lets with regard to the impact of Hrozný’s edition, which took place before the
anniversary celebrated by this conference on “Hrozný and Hittite: The First
Hundred Years,” since it was the very beginning of the 20th century when the
Austrian excavations directed by Ernst Sellin took place in Tell Taanach. On
board the team was 25-year-old Bedřich (Friedrich) Hrozný, who had just com-
pleted his dissertation on South Arabian graffiti in Vienna a few years earlier in
1901.3
1 Friendship and Cooperation at Tell Taanach
From the very beginning of his professorship in Old Testament studies and
Biblical archaeology in Vienna, Ernst Sellin sought for a possibility to excavate
in northern Palestine. His aim was to integrate archaeological methods into
the field of Old Testament studies. And thus, after strenuous journeys in the
late 1890s and negotiations with the Ottoman authorities for a license, the pio-
neer in Biblical archaeology chose a not too large-sized tell of ca. 6 ha for a
start, situated in an area where no excavations had previously taken place: Tell
Taanach, situated only 8 km southeast of Megiddo at the southern end of the
Jezreel Valley.4 The site’s importance was certainly due to its strategic location
overlooking the Via Maris leading from Egypt to Anatolia and Mesopotamia.
The excavations at Tell Taanach between 1902 and 1904 marked the begin-
ning of a fruitful cooperation between Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern stud-
ies and were the first Austrian-German excavations in this region, to be later
followed by the larger ones of Šechem and Jericho.5 Although Ernst Sellin was
not an archaeologist and later was critically accused of nonprofessional work,
he certainly proved to be a most capable project manager in obtaining funding
for his excavation from the Imperial Ministry of Culture, the Academy of Sci-
ences, the Deutscher Palästina-Verein, and the Austrian Lloyd company. Sellin
was characterized as a “flexible and innovative intellect coupled with the effort
to connect biblical scholarship and archaeology, which was a completely new
endeavor.”6 Ernst Sellin’s daughter remembered: “Seine Wiener Jahre waren
2 For a summary, see Kreuzer 2008.

3 Segert 1999: 630–631.
4 Morandi Bonacossi 2012: 387–388 and Horowitz 2012: 387.
5 See Palmer 2012 for a detailed study of Ernst Sellin’s life.
6 http://www.tau.ac.il/~archpubs/megiddo/revelations4.html (accessed 15.05.2017).

80 Pruzsinszky
die erfülltesten seines Lebens. In dieser weltoffenen Stadt fanden er und seine
Frau gleichgesinnte Geister, Freundschaften unter den Kollegen….”7
Among those contacts dear to him personally and professionally was his
former student in Hebrew language Bedřich Hrozný, an aspiring Orientalist
who had studied with the Semitist David Heinrich Müller and was at the begin-
ning of his impressive career.8 Hrozný, who had learned a number of ancient
languages as a tool to understand the cultural and historical background of
ancient texts, was working at the university library to earn a living. Sellin sup-
ported this young scholar by appointing him as the epigraphist of his excava-
tions. He reported stressing his hopes to discover some more cuneiform texts:9
Ich unternahm diese Expedition in der ausgesprochenen Hoffnung,

eitere keilinschriftliche Täfelchen zu finden. Da ich nun selbst nicht
w
imstande bin, dieselben zu entziffern, und andererseits das türkische An-
tiquitätengesetz einen auch nur zeitweiligen Transport außer Landes
nicht gestattet, so erschien es dringend geboten, einen des Babylonischen
Kundigen diesmal mitzunehmen, der die Entzifferung eventuell gleich
an Ort und Stelle vornehmen konnte. Natürlich konnte ich keinen Gee-
igneteren dazu finden als Dr. F. Hrozný, der sich bereits durch die treffli-
che Edition der im Jahre 1903 von mir ausgegrabenen Texte verdient
gemacht hatte.
Bedřich Hrozný had studied Akkadian in Vienna, mostly as an autodidact.

Between 1901 and 1902 he intensified his cuneiform studies with Friedrich De
litzsch and Hugo Winckler in Berlin, and from 1905 onwards he taught cunei-
form at the University of Vienna; among his students were Viktor Christian and
Harry Torczyner.10 Only after the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire
in 1918 was Hrozný appointed Professor of Cuneiform Studies and the History
of the Ancient Near East at the Charles University in Prague. In his obituary,
Ernst Weidner (1952–1953: 395) summarized: “Diese lange Zeit seiner Tätigkeit
als Bibliothekar und Privatdozent wurde nur unterbrochen durch eine
Orientreise mit E. Sellin im Jahre 1904.” Siegfried Kreuzer (2015: 200) conclud-
ed: “…man darf wohl annehmen, dass die ersten grabungsarchäologischen
7 Palmer 2012: 15.

8 On Hrozný’s professional life, see e.g. Segert 1999: 629–648. Hrozný is certainly one of few
scholars to have been honored with a multi-volume Festschrift, published in Archiv Orien-
tální 17 and 18 (1949–1950). On Hrozný’s formative years in Vienna between 1897 and 1919,
see now Eichner 2015: 82–125, especially pp. 95–100 on Hrozný’s collaboration with Sellin.
9 Weidner 1952–1953: 395; Sellin 1906: 2.
10 Hunger 2004: 20.

rfahrungen in Taanach Hrozný zu seinen späteren, eigenen Grabungen in

E
Kültepe/Kanisch zumindest mit motivierten und ermutigten.”
2 The Mini Archive from Tell Taanach
During the 1903 excavation season, the first four cuneiform tablets, two of
them in a clay chest, were discovered in a large complex of buildings then
called “Burg.” These tablets were the first cuneiform tablets found in Palestine,
which gave evidence of the wide use of cuneiform script beyond Mesopota-
mia. This discovery of cuneiform texts was the key reason for Sellin to conduct
another season in 1904 to find more texts that might have been overlooked.
Sellin took Hrozný along to have him read and copy the texts at the site. Hro-
zný, who had previously worked on tablets in the British Museum, “applied his
knowledge from the Hebrew Bible by comparing Akkadian and Hebrew words
and by referring to biblical texts,” as Stanislav Segert (1999: 631) stated in his
sketch of Hrozný’s life. And indeed, Sellin found more tablets: in total, the ex-
cavations by Sellin resulted in 12 texts, among them letters and lists of per-
sons.11 Hrozný received another grant from the academy to collate all the Taan-
ach tablets stored in the Filistin collection of the archaeological museum in
Istanbul12 to be published in Sellin’s excavation report. Only in the 1960s were
the excavations resumed by the American archaeologist Paul Lapp, who dis-
covered two more texts, published by Hillers and Glock.13
The mini-archive from Taanach14 predates the well-known Amarna letters
by about two generations and provides information on the political and eco-
nomic situation in the Egyptian province of Canaan in the late 15th century
during the Late Bronze i period (ca. 1450–1200 bce).15
1 Letter: Ehli-Teššup to Talwašur

2 Letter: Ahiami to Talwašur
3 Administrative tablet: list of people called to service
4 Administrative tablet: personal names
11 Hrozný 1904 and 1906. For an overview, see now Horowitz et al., 2018: 132–155 and Ber-
lejung 2006: 230–234.
12 For those texts stored in the Filistin collection (Fi.) of the Archaeological Museum in
Istanbul, see Horowitz and Oshima 2004.
13 Hillers 1964; Glock 1971 and 1983.
14 Horowitz et al. 2018: 14–15.
15 See also van der Toorn 2000 for an overview of cuneiform texts discovered in the Levant,
to which the newer book by Horowitz et al. (2006 and 2018) can be added.

82 Pruzsinszky
5 (4a)16 Administrative tablet (fragment): personal names

6 Letter: Amenhatpa to Talwašur
7 Letter: Amenhatpa to Talwašur
9 Letter (fragment)
10 (8a) Letter (fragment)
11 Letter (fragment)
14 Administrative tablet (fragment): personal names
15 Inscribed cylinder seal of Ātanah-ilī with Egypt. Symbols
17 Alphabetic cuneiform text
Total: 9 letters, 6 administrative texts, 1 seal inscription, 1 alphabetic text
Taanach was at the time a city-state within the Egyptian province of Canaan
and the place from which Thutmose iii marched against Megiddo in 1468.17
The city was subordinated to Megiddo and stood in contact with the city ruler
Aḫiami of Tel Rehob, situated close to Beth-Shean. It was governed by a local
ruler and mariannu named Talwašur,18 who seemingly did not fully obey
Amanḫatpa, the Egyptian governor in Gaza, the main Egyptian provincial ad-
ministrative center. The letters deal with the supply of chariots, weaponry and
persons, and it becomes obvious that Talwašur did not show up before
Amanḫatpa to fulfill the provision of the requested equipment/arming. The
primary purpose of the lists of persons is less clear: we might be dealing with
soldiers, workmen or alike. But the names of different linguistic traits attest to
a multiethnic/multilingual society.
Another short and unintelligible alphabetic text contains alphabetic cunei-
form signs similar to those of Ugarit, probably in a local or untrained form, and
postdates the letters and lists by about 200 years.19 It is a fine example of the
16 4a and 8a is the numbering system according to B. Hrozný.

17 On Canaan in the 2nd millennium bc, see Na’aman 2005 with several references to Tell
Taanach.
18 On the disputed reading of this name, see below.
19 Sanders in Horowitz et al. 2018: 165–167.

spread of the Ugaritic alphabetic script to a relatively small scribal center in

Palestine.
Summarizing, the archive provides glimpses on the economic and social
history and the exchange of people (such as the “brothers,” asīru-men, ḫanaku-
men and prisoners) and goods (mostly raw materials and weapons) between
the suppliers in the Jezreel valley and the Egyptian recipients. It is obvious that
“Taanach … served as a protected center of specialists supporting the popula-
tion in the region.” Although we are dealing with a relatively small archive, its
very existence means “that the site served government interests.”20
Considering the number of tablets found in Palestine, the number of tablets
found in Taanach is only outnumbered by the total covering the entire second
millennium of the current excavations of Ḫazor (amounting to 19 tablets so
far).21 The chart by Horowitz et al. (2018: 15) demonstrates that Tell Taanach
still provides the highest number of Late Bronze Age tablets found so far in
Canaan. The reason that relatively few tablets have been discovered in the
Western Periphery is because the well-known sites, such as Aphek, Gezer,
Ḫazor, Megiddo and also Taanach, continued to be inhabited after their de-
struction at the end of the Late Bronze Age. Resettlements certainly led to
removal of the archives, which leaves us incidental text finds in mostly second-
ary contexts.22
Hrozný’s edition of the cuneiform texts a few weeks after the campaign in
1904 in the first “Endbericht,” and the “Nachlese” submitted in 1905 and pub-
lished in 1906, remained the basis of discussions for many years. Despite Hro-
zný’s “cuneiformist eyes,”23 later collations of the tablets by Glock and Gordon,
Schaffer and Rainey resulted in an improved understanding of the context of
these sources.24 But due to the deteriorating state of preservation and the loss
of a number of tablets, the photographs and handcopies by Hrozný remained
indispensable for subsequent studies, including the reedition by Horowitz,
Oshima and Sanders in 2006 and 2018 incorporating the unpublished colla-
tions by Glock, Gordon and Schaffer.25
20 Glock 1983: 66.

21 See table 3 in Horowitz et al. 2018: 15, 63.
22 Cohen 2008: 84–85, referring specifically to the text finds of Ḫazor.
23 Glock 1983: 59 n. 11.
24 For bibliographical details and the information drawn from unpublished notebooks, see
Horowitz et al. 2018: 132–135.
25 For further published collations see Rainey 1999: collation of letters 1–2 and 5–6 in 1971.
See also Horowitz et al. 2004.

84 Pruzsinszky
3 Use of Cuneiform in Canaan
The Taanach letters are the earliest attestations of Canaano-Akkadian, a devel-

opment of a Western dialect within a distinct scribal culture in Canaan.26 The
texts demonstrate that the Canaanite scribes applied a Canaanite inflection to
the Old Babylonian stems (hybrid forms especially in the system of verbal mor-
phosyntax) sometime between the end of the Middle Bronze Age and the be-
ginning of the Late Bronze Age. Anson F. Rainey, the author of a monumental
linguistic analysis of the mixed dialect used by scribes from Canaan,27 stressed
that the letters share the same Old Babylonian traits and lack of Middle Baby-
lonian traits as do the Amarna letters from Canaan. Thus, they belong to the
“Canaanite” sphere of West Semitized grammar, in sharp contrast to the pe-
ripheral Akkadian of the city-states in the north. Already in the 1970s, Rainey
had devoted a separate study based on thorough collations to the verbal usage
in the Taanach texts, in which he pointed out the pre-Hebrew West Semitic
forms and syntax of the Babylonian texts.28 Although Hrozný’s translations in-
dicate that he identified the singular verbal forms fairly well, his comments are
rather laconic about their linguistic nature. Based on his background in Se-
mitics, he utilized Hebrew or Arabic etymologies for the understanding of lexi-
cal evidence.29 He also made references to the Amarna evidence, then only
accessible through Hugo Winckler’s publication of 1896 in Keilinschriftliche
Bibliothek.30 Other comparative material was simply nonexistent at the time.
The Letters 5 and 6 sent from Gaza show clear Canaanisms (suffix conjuga-
tion) and a ductus that is almost identical with those Amarna texts from
nearby Megiddo.31 Albert Glock (1971: 23–26 and 1983: 59) provided a first pa-
leographic study and even speculated whether the Megiddo Gilgamesh frag-
ment (dating to the 14th century bce)32 could have been written by the same
scribe who wrote the Amanḫatpa letters and at least one list of persons at
Taanach (but see below). According to him, it is highly probable that “in
Megiddo [there] existed a cultural tradition that influenced or even trained”
26 On very interesting remarks concerning Canaano-Akkadian, “the product of the coexis-

tence and interaction of two Semitic languages,” see Vita 2015b: 388–396 with further rel-
evant literature.
27 Rainey 1996.
28 Rainey 1977: 33–64.
29 Furthermore, he applied his knowledge of the Hebrew Bible by referring to biblical texts
throughout his accompanying commentary.
30 The standard edition by Knudtzon was published only in 1907.
31 Glock 1983: 59; Vita 2015a: 67–69.
32 Goren et al. 2009: 763–766, Anthonioz 2015: 47.

the scribes in Taanach.33 At least later on, during the Amarna period, the
scribes of Biridiya, ruler of Megiddo were lent to Iašdata, ruler of Taanach.34
The ductus of letters 1 and 235 is similar to that of those Amarna letters stem-
ming from Gath in southern Canaan, Beth-Shean, Piḫilu and Ḫazor.36 Although
the comparisons lead to rather diffuse results and the petrography of the tab-
lets has not yet been analyzed, they all do stem from within the Canaanite
boundaries. Only with a few more contemporary tablets might we be able to
trace down scribes who may have been occasionally exchanged with other
city-states, as shown by Wilfred van Soldt (2013: 26) and Juan-Pablo Vita (2015a)
for the Caananite Amarna letters.
According to the present view, cuneiform (as litterae francae)37 obviously
spread and established itself in Canaan via Ḫazor, an important earlier scribal
center in the Old Babylonian period. Questions arose as to how schools of
scribes might have developed in this region and if, as Moran (1992: xxi–xxii)
suggested, this was a real spoken pidgin and how the practitioners came to
speak it: the more so since the personal and geographic names show no reflec-
tion of such a pidgin or “interlanguage”—they are purely West Semitic. Those
who spoke this tongue obviously kept close to an Old Babylonian dialect, in
opposition to the trend to adopt the Middle Babylonian dialects at the expense
of the classical tongue. As Moran (1992: xxii) put it: “The language can only be
described as an entirely new code, only vaguely intelligible—if at all—to the
West Semite because of the lexicon, and to the Babylonian because of the
grammar.”38
According to van Soldt (1998: 596), this interlanguage or koine “was most
probably not a spoken pidgin, but rather a code developed during more than a
century of local school tradition.”39 The scribes obviously translated the words
of the Canaanite-speaking ruler into the koine Akkadian in use in Syria and
Palestine. This mixed language then became the institutionalized diplomatic
33 Glock 1971: 23.

34 Vita 2015a: 67–68.
35 They present a mixture of standard Old Babylonian style and usage of Canaanized fea-
tures, such as the West Semitic indicative-energic modal ending or yaqtul preterits and
jussives and yaqtula volitives: Rainey 1996: ii 31, passim.
36 Glock 1983: 59–60; Vita 2015a: 69.
37 von Dassow 2004: 670.
38 They are thus best described as Akkadian texts with West Semitic verbal system and word
order/syntax reflecting the West Semitic mother tongue of scribes and officials: translated
into Canaanite or Egyptian, cf. Ugarit.
39 See also Rainey 1996: ii, 32. von Dassow (2004, 648 and 660) speaks of a “mixed Canaano-
Akkadographic code.” For a recent study on this complex issue of Canaano-Akkadian,
including relevant research, see also Mandell 2015.

86 Pruzsinszky
language of the Late Bronze Age, which according to Izre’el’s linguistic studies
on the Canaanite dialects of the Amarna Age40 is not uniform, but may vary
according to geography or the scribal tradition and education of different cit-
ies.41 Which background and training the local scribes had and the place of
writing in the predominantly oral culture of the time, as well as the identifica-
tion of single scribes based on palaeographic, linguistic and petrographic anal-
yses, are fascinating topics of ongoing research.
Among the sites in Palestine, there surely existed several centers of scribal
education. In Megiddo, for instance, a fragment of a tablet containing the Epic
of Gilgameš and liver omen texts have been found (see above). Recent petro-
graphic analyses by Yuval Goren, however, reveal that the Gilgameš tablet was
probably produced in Gezer, where it was copied from another, original (?),
text.42 Gezer seems to have been an important scribal center, from which
scribes departed for other Canaanite centers, as Vita (2015a) and Goren et al.
(2009) observed on the basis of later Amarna tablets. According to petrograph-
ic analyses, the school texts found in Aphek (younger) and Ḫazor (older) were
obviously produced locally, while the lexical text of Ashkelon originates from
the Lebanese littoral and the alphabetical text from Beth-Shemesh from the
southern coastal plain of Israel. Since almost all of the Canaanite scholarly
texts were composed within the local Canaanite boundaries and were clearly
transported from one place to another, some sort of scholarly exchange must
have existed among the Canaanite city-states. Developments in Mesopotamia
were transmitted to the scribes of Canaan through intermediaries in the west,
like the scribal community of Emar and especially Ugarit, where schooling
material with West Semitic, Hittite and Hurrian translations has been found.
Carole Roche-Hawley (2015: 63–65) has emphasized the role of oral instruction
for the more practical needs of the local repertoire, in contrast to the basic
school texts that were found in Ugarit, which mostly reflect the classical cunei-
form tradition of Mesopotamia.43
40 See Vita 2010: 864–865 for a comprehensive and short summary of various positions.
mphasis in research is given to the scribes of these times, who were exchanged among
E
the Canaanite rulers. Thus, palaeographic studies have become indispensible within the
field of Peripheral Akkadian (PA) in the past few years.
41 Cohen (2009) studied the schools in the Western Periphery, focusing on other more afflu-
ent sites, such as Emar, Ugarit and Ḫattuša.
42 Goren et al. 2009: 763–773.
43 It is also in Ugarit that the local language was represented in an alphabetic form of the
cuneiform script, also referred to as the “heyday of cuneiform script in Canaan” (Horowitz
et al., 2018: 18).

4 Onomastics and Their Evidence for Cultural Contacts in the Late

Bronze Age
With regard to the name lists, several articles have been devoted to the ono-
mastic evidence consisting of about 80 different personal names, the largest
number of Late Bronze Age names from a single site in Palestine.44 As early as
the late 1920s, Arnold Gustavs published two lengthy articles on the evidence
of the personal names for the polyethnic character of northern Palestine.45
Several readings have been improved over the years, and the analyses by Rain-
ey (1977, 1998), Glock (1983), Zadok (1996) and Hess (2003) clearly demonstrate
the advances in understanding of the attested languages since the early 20th
century. Ran Zadok’s study of 1996, including the unpublished collations by
Glock and Gordon, is certainly the most exhaustive, with numerous compari-
sons demonstrating his profound knowledge of onomastics of the various at-
tested linguistic groups. Zadok’s aim was to draw an ethno-linguistic map of
Southern Canaan in the second millennium in which the evidence of Tell
Taanach is treated carefully alongside that of the Ramesside period. He com-
piled all the evidence by including his own collations and meticulously cor-
rected Hrozný’s semantic and etymological proposals, which were mostly
based on Biblical parallels and readings. For instance, the local ruler’s name
written syllabically RI-PI-SUR is now to be read Talwašur, as indicated by
Egyptian evidence. It may be analyzed as Hurrian Tulwišar, presumably pro-
nounced as Talwašor in Taanach.46 The name of the sender of letter 1 was origi-
nally read as Guli-Addu by Hrozný; according to Glock’s collation,47 it may very
well represent the Hurrian or hybrid name Eḫli-Teššup or Eḫli-Addu, frequent-
ly found syllabically in texts from the Levant. Eḫli-Teššup was an overlord,
probably residing in Ḫazor.
A change in the local population can be postulated taking the evidence of
personal names into account: we notice a gradual increase of non-Semitic
names in the corpus of Late Bronze Age texts in Canaan.48 In the Ḫazor texts,
the personal names are Semitic in character. In the Amarna corpus, however,
about one third is non-Semitic. In the lists of persons from Taanach, we notice
an even greater frequency of non-Semitic onomastics: about 60% are West
44 See Pruzsinszky 2006: 101–117 with relevant literature.

45 Gustavs 1927: 1–18.
46 Pruzsinszky 2006: 107; Berlejung 2006: 230 reads Talwišar. B. Kaldhol (https://www
.academia.edu/31789773/The_god_A%C5%A1%C5%A1ur_in_Hurrian_Personal_Names)
reads Talwašur and translates this name “Assur is great”.
47 Glock 1983: 59 n. 11.
48 Zadok 1996; Hess 2003: 49–50.

88 Pruzsinszky
Semitic, while 20% are taken up by Indo-Aryan and Hurrian names each.49
“Thus the significant presence of northern names (mainly Hurrian and some
Indo-Aryan)…mixes with the dominant West Semitic presence.”50 This also
matches the evidence from the relevant Amarna letters from this region. “The
presence of northern names is significant in the regions around the northern
Jordan valley, the Jezreel Valley, and its westward reaches inland sites such as
Aphek to the south. ... Coastal cities from Byblos to Ashkelon, except for Acco,
were not subject to this northern influence and thus this cultural influence of
names came through the Beqa and Jordan valleys,” as Richard Hess (2003: 50)
concluded in his onomastic survey and which might also be explained by the
“Syro-African rift migration” hypothesis of Nadav Na’aman.51
To understand and reconstruct the past, one also needs to look at the material
culture and try to study the distribution of people in the landscape, that is,
settlement patterns in antiquity. This may be facilitated by the ongoing Jezreel
valley regional project,52 a long-term, multidisciplinary survey and excavation
project investigating the history of human activity in the Jezreel Valley. A simi-
lar holistic approach goes for the understanding of ancient text corpuses. We
can only achieve a better understanding by considering their overall context in
the chronological, political, historical and linguistic-cultural environment to
reconstruct the dynamics of the cultural history of the Late Bronze Age in the
Levant. This in turn can only be done by considering the entire text corpus
known from this region as it was set forward in the important publication
Cuneiform in Canaan (Horowitz et al., 2006 and 2018), which will certainly be
enriched by W. van Soldt’s forthcoming book The Transfer of Knowledge in a
Cuneiform Culture.53
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(deuxième partie), in: C. Roche-Hawley (ed.), 47–58.
Berlejung, A. (2006) Briefe aus dem Archiv von Taanach, Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten
Testaments N.F. 1/3, 230–235.
49 Berlejung 2006: 230.

50 Hess 2003: 50.
51 Na’aman 2012: 8, 11–12, 330, passim. Note especially the leaders’ names in this region,
which are either Hurrian or Indo-Aryan.
52 http://www.jezreelvalleyregionalproject.com (accessed 15.05.2017).
53 See van Soldt 2013: 19–31.

Cohen, Y. (2008) Review of Horowitz, Oshima and Sanders (2006), BASOR 349,
83–86.
Cohen, Y. (2009) The Scribes and Scholars of the City of Emar in the Late Bronze Age
[HSS 59], Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.
Eichner, H. (2015) Friedrich Hroznýs Studien- und Arbeitsjahre in Wien (1897–1919), in:
Š. Velhartická (ed.), Bedřich Hrozný a 100 let chetitologie, Prague: National Gallery,
82–125.
Glock, A.E. (1971) A New Ta‘annek tablet, BASOR 204, 17–30.
Glock, A.E. (1983) Texts and archaeology at Tell Ta‘annek, Berytus 31, 57–66.
Goren, Y. et al. (2009) A provenance study of the Gilgamesh fragment from Megiddo,
Archaeometry 51, 763–773.
Gustavs, A. (1927) Die Personennamen in den Tontafeln von Tell Ta‘annek, ZDPV 50,
1–18.
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Hess, R.S. (2003) Preliminary perspectives on Late Bronze Age culture from the per-
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Hillers, D.R. (1964) An Alphabetic cuneiform tablet from Taanach (TT433), BASOR 173,
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Horowitz, W., Oshima, T. and Sanders, S. (2006) Cuneiform in Canaan, Cuneiform Sourc-
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tion, University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns (2nd ed.).
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Euphrat und Tigris: Österreichische Forschungen zum Alten Orient [Wiener Offene
Orientalistik 3], Wien: LIT-Verlag, 19–22.
Hrozný, F. (1904) Die Keilschrifttexte von Ta’annek, in: E. Sellin, Tell Ta’annek [Abhand-
lungen der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften Denkschrift 50/4], Wien: In
Kommission bei C. Gerold’s Sohn, 113–122.
Hrozný, F. (1906) Die neuen Keilschrifttexte von Ta’annek, in: E. Sellin, Eine Nachlese
auf dem Tell Ta’annek in Palästina [Abhandlungen der Kaiserlichen Akademie
der Wissenschaften Denkschrift 52/3], Wien: In Kommission bei A. Hölder,
35–41.

90 Pruzsinszky
Kreuzer, S. (ed.) (2006) 100 Jahre Forschungen zur Archäologie, zur Geschichte, zu den
Fundobjekten und zu den Keilschrifttexten [Wiener Alttestamentliche Studien 5],
Wien, Frankfurt: Peter Lang.
Kreuzer, S. (2008) Taanach, https://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/wibilex/das-bibellexi
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b3e0fee96862d/ (accessed 15.05.2017).
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Umwelt, Berlin, Boston: de Gruyter.
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Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.
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schung des Alten Testaments und des Antiken Judentums 58], Frankfurt am Main:
Peter Lang.
Pruzsinszky, R. (2006) Das Onomastikon der Texte aus Tell Taanach, in: S. Kreuzer (ed.),
99–114.
Rainey, A.F. (1977) Verbal usages in the Taanach texts, IOS 7, 33–64.
Rainey, A.F. (1996) Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets: A Linguistic Analysis of the Mixed
Dialect Used by Scribes from Canaan [HdO i/25], Leiden: Brill.
Rainey, A.F. (1999) Taanach letters, Eretz Israel 26, *153–162.
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C. Roche-Hawley (ed.), 59–66.
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dans le cadre du projet ANR Mespériph 2007–2011 [Orient & Mediterranée 16], Paris:
Éditions de Boccard.
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van Soldt, W. (1998) Review of Rainey (1996), JAOS 118, 595–597.
van Soldt, W. (2013) The extent of literacy in Syria and Palestine during the second mil-
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Proceedings of the 56th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Barcelona 26–30
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and schools, ZDPV 116–117, 97–113.
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Ugarit-Verlag.
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Canaan in the Second Millennium BCE, Michmanim 9, 97–145.

Part 2
Hittite and Indo-European

Chapter 6
Consonant Clusters, Defective Notation of Vowels

and Syllable Structure in Caromemphite
Ignasi-Xavier Adiego
Abstract
One of the typically chaotic situations produced in Carian both by the singularity of
the alphabet and by the scarcity of the documentation available is the so-called “defec-
tive notation of vowels”: the fact that Carian writing tends to omit the notation of vo-
calic segments, and does so without any clear pattern and for no apparent reason. In
this paper I will try to bring some order into the chaos. I will attempt to show that, in
spite of appearances, the Carian words attested in the Memphis-Saqqâra subcorpus
offer a very regular and not particularly complex syllable structure, and that the defec-
tive notation of vowels can be explained if one interprets these vowels as excrescent
vowels, i.e. unstressed and very short vowels of fluctuating timbre that are inserted
without affecting the syllable structure of the word. The situation is not so clear in the
rest of the Carian documentation, but I will present a first approach in order to estab-
lish whether a similar pattern of syllable structures and spelling procedures is at work
in other Carian subcorpora.
Keywords
Carian – Anatolian languages – Luwic languages – syllable structure – consonant

clusters
1 Introduction
One of the most challenging tasks in linguistic analysis – and, if successful, one
of the most rewarding – is the search for order hidden inside an apparent
chaos of forms. In the case of Carian, one of the typically chaotic situations
produced both by the singularity of the alphabet and by the scarcity of the
documentation available is what I called (in Adiego 2007: 239–242) the “defec-
tive notation of vowels”: the fact that Carian writing tends to omit the notation

96 Adiego
of vocalic segments, and does so without any clear pattern and for no apparent
reason. This omission is obvious from even the briefest analysis of Carian
words and sequences (i), but it can also be verified (ii) by comparison with
Greek adaptations of Carian and (iii) thanks to some internal alternations
detectable in the Carian corpus (Adiego 2007: 254–255).
(i) pntmunś, idmns, tbridbδś, pnlδśwl, ýnsmsos, emsγlpn, idrayridsemδbq,

mtKelŋ, trqδimrqrdstazomδ[, smδýbrs, ?/obsmsmñðñ/?…
(ii) (iii)
dquq – Ιδαγυγος βrsi – iβrsiś – iβarsiś
kbjomś – Κεβιωμος dwśoλś – iduśolś
ksolbś – (place name) Κασωλαβα kbidn – kbdynš
msnordś – (place name) Μασανωραδα pikrmś – pikarmś
ntro – cf. Νετερ-βιμος, Lyc. Natrbbijẽmi pnuśoλ – punwśoλś (Πονυσωλλος)
plqo – Πελ(λ)εκως psmšk(wneit) – psmaśk – pismašk /
qlaλiś – Κολαλδις, Κυλαλδις pismaśk
qtblemś – Κυτβελημις, Κοτβελημος šr(quq) – šar(kbiom) (Greek Σαρ-)
qýblsiś – (ethnic) Κυβλισσ//ος// trqδ- – trquδe cf. Lycian Trqqñt-
śuγλiś – (place name) Σουαγγελα ttbazi – ttubazi
tñuś – Τοννους
This “defective notation” is also a major obstacle to the study of phonotactics

and syllable structure in Carian.
In this study, I will try to bring some order into the chaos. I stress that the
study is preliminary, and as such, its scope is quite narrow: I have limited my-
self to a Carian subcorpus comprising the inscriptions (mostly funerary stelae)
from Saqqâra, a necropolis of Memphis (hence the denomination “Caromem-
phite” used here). The reason for my choice is obvious to anyone who knows
Carian inscriptions: this subcorpus is the most extensive and consistent of all
the Carian documentation, presenting a highly standardized version of the
writing, without significant variation. This feature was decisive for the deci-
pherment of Carian alphabet and is likely to be very useful for a study such as
the present one.
It is not clear that the results obtained from this subcorpus can be easily
extrapolated to the rest of the Carian documentation, but at least I hope to
show that Caromemphite presents clear patterns of syllable structure that can
be recognized if some basic and straightforward principles are accepted.

Consonant Clusters, Defective Notation of Vowels 97
2 Methodological Assumptions
The first methodological assumption is the differentiation between V and C. V

represents the syllable peak or nucleus, and C the remaining segments. In the
first phase of my analysis, only a, e, i, o, u, j, w, y, ý will be parsed as possible syl-
lable nuclei; nasals and liquids will be excluded. In a later phase, I will intro-
duce the analysis of some of these nasal and liquid segments as syllabic, and
assign them the label V. The reason for this questionable procedure is that
there are no graphic differences between syllabic and nonsyllabic liquids and
nasals. Therefore, it is advisable initially to consider all the liquid and nasal
segments as purely consonants, and then carry out a different analysis at a
later stage.
I recognize that the use of V and C to represent the syllable nucleus vs. the
nonnuclear segments may seem rather confusing, since one might tend to sim-
ply associate V with “vowel” and C with “consonant”, but I think that it is a very
straightforward way of indicating the different analyses proposed here. Hence-
forth, then, V = syllable nucleus or peak, C = other segments.
A serious methodological problem in parsing syllables is how to analyze ad-
jacent vowels. Here, I take only one vowel as the syllabic nucleus (V), namely
the more open one, when a sequence of two adjacent vowels is found. The
preceding and following vowels are thus classified as C. When they are preced-
ing, they can be considered prenuclear glides; when they are following, they
can be taken as the second element of a rising diphthong.
The only examples of three adjacent vowels in our subcorpus are the follow-
ing four words:
kojoλ paraeym yjas[iś] yiasi
In kojoλ and yjas[iś], where the intermediate vocalic element is j, it is obvious

that this j functions as a consonant onset, and therefore the syllabic parsings
ko.joλ and y.ja.s[iś] are assumed. This analysis can be extended to yiasi, in
which case i can be considered an alternative spelling for j.
More complicated is the case of paraeym. Although a triphthong cannot be
ruled out, I propose to parse this form as a trisyllabic word pa.ra.eym, in which
the hiatus between a and e coincides with the boundary between the two ele-
ments of the compound (clearly, we are dealing with a compound name with
the well-known stem para- as first element, cf. Adiego 2007: 393).
In fact, this latter form introduces another important problem: the possibil-
ity of hiatus between two adjacent vowels. Cases like mdayn or arliomś are in

98 Adiego
principle highly ambiguous: they admit /mda.yn/ or /mdayn/, /ar.li.omś/ or /

ar.liomś/ as parsings. Fortunately, such examples are not particularly abun-
dant. In general, a nonhiatus solution seems more plausible, particularly when
the adjacent vowel is i, because this alternates with j (most probably a glide
sound), although, regrettably, no examples of this alternation are documented
within the Caromemphite corpus: note, for instance, kbjomś in our corpus vs.
šarkbiom in Sais. However, the situation is not always so simple. For instance,
in a name like paraiβreλ we might think of a diphthong /ai/ or alternatively
consider that the compound boundary between para and iβreλ points to a
hiatus parsing. This latter possibility would be backed up by the analysis of
paraeym (pa.ra.eym) proposed above.
In any case, the presence vs. absence of hiatus does not greatly affect our
analysis, where, as we will soon see, the sonority hierarchy is of major impor-
tance. Adjacent vowel sequences, if interpreted as belonging to the same syl-
lable, never violate the sonority hierarchy.
It should also be noted that, with few exceptions, adjacent vowels are
combinations of a high vowel and a low vowel (or vice versa), according to the
following classification:1
high vowels: {u, i, w, j, y, ý}

low vowels: {a, e, o}
Therefore we find [low+high] (ai, ay, au, aw, ey, ow, etc.) and [high+low] (ja, io,
ýa, ye, etc) sequences.
Examples of [low+low] sequences are very few in number. I have found only
two in our subcorpus: aorś and the compound paraeym mentioned above.
Note that aorś is an Egyptian name (Adiego 2007: 353, following Vittmann),
and that for paraeym a hiatus analysis pa.ra.eym seems preferable, as noted
above. I think that this preference for avoiding two low vowels in contact favors
the interpretation as diphthongs and points to a tendency to avoid hiatus.2
The examples of [high+high] combinations of adjacent vowels are some-
what more numerous, but their distribution is interesting. In principle, there
are twenty theoretically possible combinations:3
1 Obviously, this classification assumes that y, ý represent a [y] sound, as I have defended in
Adiego (2007).
2 The scarce presence of sequences of low vowels – ea, eo, etc. – is a general feature throughout
the Carian corpus.
3 I leave aside combinations of the same timbre, as *yy, *yý, *uw, *uu, etc. In fact, there are no
examples of these combinations in the Caromemphite corpus.

iu iw iy iý
ui uj uy uý
ju jw jy jý
yi yu yj yw
ýi ýu ýj ýw
But in reality, our subcorpus only offers examples of three types: iu, yi, and ýi.4
iu: piub[a]ziś
yi: yiśbiksś
ýi: šýinś
Note that the example of iu poses problems of reading; what is more, it appears
in an Egyptian name.
If the value [y] of y, ý is assumed, the sequences yi, ýi point to a fronting
change u > y triggered by the following sound, the front vowel i, as suggested
summarily in Adiego (2007: 257). An analysis of the situation in the complete
Carian corpus is beyond the scope of the present work, but a detailed study of
all combinations of high vowels gives strong support to this fronting change. In
the present work, sequences of [high+high] vowels will be taken as forming a
diphthong. The problem is to ascertain which of the two high vowels functions
as syllable peak. In the case of iu, this is not particularly relevant, but in ýi, yi it
is more important because the way these sounds function may help us to iden-
tify the exact nature and origin of y and ý. I tend to think that here i functions
as syllable peak, because it is i that affects the articulation of y, not the other
way around, but this is a rather impressionistic interpretation. The opposite
parsing cannot be ruled out, nor even the possibility of the coexistence of both
parsings (/yj/, /ɥi/): compare for instance Spanish, where /uj/ and /wi/ coexist:
muy /muj/ vs. fui /fwi/. In a purely conventional mode, I analyse yi, ýi as a rising
diphthong in which i functions as syllable peak.
To sum up, I assume that all sequences of two vowels, of which one is low
and the other is high, or both are high, preceded and followed by consonants
or by word boundaries, may be treated as diphthongs or sequences of vowels
plus glides. Therefore, I include them in pre- or postnuclear C-slots.
Finally, a further methodological problem is raised by the exact status of j, w.
As we will see soon, the Caromemphite subcorpus clearly suggests that j is a
glide. The word Kj is the only example in which j must be analysed as a syllable
peak, and this word is a highly aberrant spelling documented only in one
4 A sequence yj appears only in yjas[iś], analysed above as heterosyllabic (/y.ja.siś/).

100 Adiego
inscription. In all of the other numerous instances of the word in Caromem-

phite, we find the expected spelling Ki. Less clear is the situation of w (see the
detailed analysis in Adiego 2007). Insofar as we find it in contexts where an
interpretation as syllable peak is apparently inevitable, I will treat it as V in
these contexts. However, below we will observe some important restrictions
on its distribution compared to the other vocalic signs.
3 Theoretical Assumptions
3.1 Sonority Hierarchy and Sonority Sequencing

The concepts of the sonority hierarchy and sonority sequencing are crucial in
the syllable structure of the world’s languages. The sonority hierarchy estab-
lishes a ranking from the most sonorous to the least sonorous sounds. There
are various proposals for the sonority hierarchy, both universal and language-
specific, but the discrepancies do not affect the sequence of the major classes
of sounds. Therefore, the following hierarchy can be taken as universal:
low vowels > high vowels > liquids > nasals > fricatives > affricates > stops.
The Sonority Sequencing Generalization establishes that, in a given syllable,

sonority gradually increases from the beginning to the syllable peak or nucle-
us, where the most sonorous segment of the syllable appears, and decreases
(also gradually) from this nucleus to the end, always following the sonority hi-
erarchy. Otherwise defined, in Blevins’s words:
Sonority Sequencing Generalization (SSG): Between any member of a

syllable and the syllable peak, a sonority rise or plateau must occur.
blevins 1995
Certainly, violations of this sonority sequencing can occur, the most typical
being the behavior of s, which in many languages (English or Latin, to cite only
two examples) can occupy positions on a word boundary (English stops, Latin
stare, princeps), but the SSG is generally observed in the world’s languages.
3.2 Syllable Typology

Another important theoretical issue in this study is the typology of syllable
structure and the classes of segments which function as syllable nuclei. Lan-
guages show variation regarding these two parameters. As for syllable struc-
tures, we find a spectrum ranging from languages that admit only very simple

structures (CV) to languages with very complex consonant clusters, both in

the beginning (known as the Onset of the syllable) and in the ending (the
Coda). It will be interesting to establish the number of consonant segments
that are permitted in onset and coda position in Caromemphite.
There is also considerable variation among the world’s languages regarding
which classes of segments function as syllable nuclei, but significantly, it gen-
erally obeys the sonority hierarchy. For instance, whereas in Sanskrit only vow-
els and liquids can be syllable nuclei, in reconstructed PIE this possibility
extends to the following segment class in the sonority hierarchy, i.e., nasals.
An important discussion in phonology is whether any class of segments can
play the role of a syllabic peak. In descriptions and analyses of different lan-
guages, we find that fricatives and even stops can take on a syllabic function.
This question is closely connected with the discussion of the existence of lan-
guages with “syllable-less” words. Perhaps one of the best known examples of
this is the Salishan language Bella Coola, in which there are words that lack
vocalic and sonorant segments.5 Scholars have debated whether in these words
fricatives and stops are syllable nuclei, or whether these words have no syllable
structure at all in Bella Coola. As this study aims to show, Caromemphite is not,
despite appearances, one of these particularly idiosyncratic languages, but of-
fers rather more frequently attested, “normal” syllabic patterns.
4 Analysis of the Subcorpus
After these methodological and theoretical prolegomena, I will analyse the

words contained in the Caromemphite subcorpus. I exclude truncated forms,
admitting only those whose completion is highly probable and also some ex-
amples in which the missing letters do not notably affect the analysis: for in-
stance, in [-]owtś only the initial C segment is missing, and so the complete
word can be easily analysed.
4.1 “Vowel-less” Words

The Caromemphite subcorpus offers only two apparent examples of “vowel-
less words”, sb and mHmś. But note the following particularities:
(1) sb “and” is a proclitic conjunction, as the interpunction clearly shows in
the sole example we have of this word in our subcorpus: paraeym : sbpolo.
5 Note for instance: łxwtłcxw “you spat on me”, xscć “I am now fat”, xłp̓ x̣ʷłtłpłłskʷc̓ “he had had
in his possession a bunchberry plant”.

102 Adiego
Therefore, I will take sbpolo as one word in which sb together with p

makes up the onset of the first syllable.
(2) mHmś contains two instances of m. As we will see in §4.3, this sound can
function as a syllable nucleus in Caromemphite. This word poses the ad-
ditional problem of our ignorance of the exact value of H.
Also isolated are the examples of words where the only vocalic sign is j or w.
I have already mentioned the unique case of j in Kj. As for w, we have only the
words w (in E.Me 13) and pnlδśwl. In all three of these cases, I accept a value of
j, w as syllable nuclei.
Beyond these five cases, all Caromemphite words contain at least one of the
following vocalic sounds: a, e, i, o, u. Significantly, the subcorpus does not con-
tain unambiguous examples of the use of y, ý as the only syllabic sounds of a
word (note only the case of šýinś, already mentioned above).
4.2 Words with One Vocalic Syllabic Nucleus

As stated above, in my initial approach, I analyze only the vocalic segments a,
e, i, o, u, y, ý, j, w as syllable nuclei (V). As noted above, there are no examples of
y, ý as sole vocalic segments in a word, so in this section dedicated to (appar-
ently) monosyllabic words, y and ý always appear preceding or following the
syllable nucleus and are therefore classified as C.
Table 6.1 shows all the words in the corpus that contain one vowel. I note
violations of SSG in the onset by X, and violations of SSG in the coda by Y. I
exclude from these violations cases in which the sound is a sibilant (s, ś, š)
occupying the edgemost position in the onset or in the coda.
Table 6.1 Words containing one vowel
C C C C C V C C C C SSG
violations
w
e n
o r ś
i d m n ś Y
K i
K j
s a
u e
ś e n

C C C C C V C C C C SSG
violations
t e d
β e m ś
m e ŕ ś
q u q ś
w e t ś
q a r m ś
ý a s δ ś Y
[-] o w t ś
p i k r m ś Y
k b o s
m n o ś
z m u ś
k w a r ś
l k o r ś X
m d a y n X
m d a ý n X
p λ e q ś
š ý i n ś
k s o l b ś
t r i e l ś
p j a b r m Y
p l q o X
m r s i ś X
p t t u ś
t q t e s
k b j o m ś
p s m a ś/š k
š d τ a t ś
š r q u q ś X
m s n o r d ś X
p K s i m t ś
t b r i d b δ ś Y
p n t m u n ś X
p n l δ ś w l X

104 Adiego
Note the following particularities:

(a) Nucleus particularities:
– As mentioned above, examples of w, j as nuclei (V) are extremely
rare, and there are no examples of y, ý as nuclei (except perhaps the
ambiguous šýinś).
(b) Onset particularities:
– The number of C in the onset oscillates from 1 to 5, but 5 and 4 are
exceptional: pnlδśwl is the sole example of 5 C, and pntmunś is the
sole example of 4 C. Both cases contain liquids and nasals among
the prevocalic consonants (on this, see the following paragraph).
– Violations of SSG in the onset: we find nine violations of SSG (in 43
words), which seems a fairly high number. But there is one most
remarkable point: in all nine of these violations, liquid, nasal and/
or δ segments are involved: mrsiś, lkorś, mdayn, mdaýn, pnlδśwl,
etc.6
(c) Coda particularities:
– The number of coda segments oscillates between 1 and 4; for 4 C we
have only three examples: idmns, pikrmś, tbridbδś.
– There are only three clear examples of SSG violation (idmns, pikrmś,
pjabrm), and two doubtful ones (tbridbδś, ýasδś). The doubts in
these latter cases are posed by the exact status of δ, a question to
which we will turn below (§4.4). Not surprisingly, these certain and
doubtful examples of SSG violation include the three cases in which
the coda has four segments. Another significant point is that these
words coincide in having a liquid, nasal or δ involved in the
violation.
4.3 Words with One Proper Vowel and One Syllabic Sonorant
Leaving aside the cases of sibilants, the conclusion is clear: all the apparent
examples of coda and onset violations of SSG involve the presence of a liquid,
nasal or δ (on which see §4.4 below). The most logical solution, then, is to ac-
cept the existence of syllabic nasals and liquids or, at least, the presence of
unwritten supporting vowels in the articulation of nasals and liquids in these
positions. In favor of this analysis is the alternation of pikrmś with pikarmś, or
of šr- in šrquq with šar- in šaruśoλ, šarwljatś.
By admitting syllabic nasals and liquids, the syllable structure of these
words becomes simpler and more in line with the SSG:
6 A difficult form to interpret is šdτatś, due to the doubts about the precise value of τ. In any
case, the violation of SSG by š is a typical case of sibilant eccentricity.

Table 6.2 Words containing one vowel and one syllabic sonorant
C C V C C V C C C
i d m n s
m d a ý n
m d a y n
m s n o r d ś
p l q o
p i k r m ś
š r q u q ś
p n t m u n ś
p j a b r m
4.4 “Double” Consonants (δ, β, γ, λ, z)

Contra Adiego (2007) and Kloekhorst (2008) I am now convinced that δ repre-
sents /n.d/, where /n/ may or may not be a syllabic nasal. The same can be said
of β = /m.b/ (note iβrsi = /im.br.si/, βrsi = /m̥ .br.si/) and of γ = /n.g/. I think that
it is possible that Carian had biphonemic heterosyllabic graphemes. Kloek-
horst (2008) argues against the existence of biphonemic graphemes on the
grounds that the Carian writing system had individual graphemes for the
sounds involved in biphonemic sequences. However, this argument is not
compelling: the Greek alphabet also had biphonemic graphemes such as <ξ>
or <ψ> representing biphonemic sequences for which individual graphemes
were also available (<κ>+<σ>, <π>+<σ>). Moreover, it is probable that /b/ in
<β> = /m.b/ was not exactly identical to the sound represented by (a frica-
tive /β/?), and similarly in the case of <δ> vs. <d>.
Perhaps the same biphonemic explanation can be extended to λ, which may
represent /l.d/ (or /l.l/?), with the possibility that the first /l/ represents a
syllabic liquid. Finally, a similar analysis may be suggested for <z>, for which
a value [s.t] seems probable. Therefore, we may propose the following
equivalences:
δ = /n.d/, /n̥ .d/

β = /m.b/, /m̥ .b/
γ = /n.g/, /n̥ .g/
z = /s.t/
λ = /l.d/, /l̥.d/ or /l.l/, /l̥.l/

106 Adiego
This interpretation allows us to give a straightforward analysis of words like

tbridbδś, ýasδś where the number of alleged coda consonants is unusually high
and/or violates SSG. If analysed as /tbridbn̥ dś/, /ýasn̥ dś/, the resulting forms
become typical examples of disyllabic words with more typical consonant
clusters and no violations of the SSG:7
Table 6.3 Analysis of tbridbδś and ýasδś
C C C V C C V C C
ý a s n+ +d ś
t b r i d b n+ +d ś
This leads us to reconsider the analysis of the words βemś, pλeqś, and zmuś in
Table 6.1 in which “double consonants” are also involved:
Table 6.4a Analysis of βemś and pλeqś
C V C V C C
m+ +b e m ś
p l+ +d e q ś
Table 6.4b Analysis of zmuś
C C C V C
s+ +t m u ś
If the hypothesis of the double consonantal value of <β>, <λ> and similar let-
ters is assumed, I think that the analysis of the two words in Table 6.4a, in
which the sonorant parts are parsed as syllable nuclei, is preferable. An onset /
mb/ in βemś would violate the SSG. However, in pλeq a /pl:/ onset (with a sort of
7 In this table, I represent <δ> as n+d. Similarly, in subsequent tables, <γ> is represented as n+g,
and <β> as m+b, <λ> as l+d and <z> as s+t.

long or geminate l) cannot be entirely ruled out. As for Table 6.4b, if <z> = /st/,
the resulting onset /stm/ violates the SSG only in the position of the sibilant –
a violation which, as we have seen, is acceptable in Carian.
4.5 Words with One Proper Vowel and Two Syllabic Sonorants
An exceptional form is pnlδśwl, in which we must assume the existence of two
syllabic sonorants: n and δ = /n̥ .d/ (in accordance with §4.4). Under this analy-
sis, the syllable structure of the words become much simpler:
Table 6.5 Analysis of pnlδśwl
C V C V C C V C
p n l n+ +d ś w l
4.6 Syllable Structure: a First Conclusion

Considering Table 6.1 and the revisions of Tables 6.2 to 6.5 together, we find
that the onset in the beginning of a word consists of a maximum of three con-
sonants. In fact, there are few examples of this maximal onset; moreover, some
of the examples are Egyptian names like psmaš/śk, and perhaps also pKsimtś
and pttuś. The SSG in these initial-word onsets is generally fulfilled. The
same can be said of codas in word-final position: the maximum number of
consonants is three, but this number is only obtained if the last segment is a
sibilant ś.
The situation in the interior of words is similar: we find a maximum of two
consonantal segments. We are not sure where the boundaries of syllables fell,
but it is clear that at least in Caromemphite, the onset and/or the coda can
have a maximum of two consonants in word-internal position.
4.7 Words with Two Vowels

Although we have seen that we must accept the existence of syllabic liquids
and nasals, we continue to use the same methodological procedure to analyse
Caromemphite words. In this section, we take into consideration words con-
taining two plain vowels. As we will shortly discover, some (though not many)
two-vowel words also contain syllabic liquids and nasals and therefore must be
parsed as trisyllabic words.8
8 The distribution of internal C between syllables presented here is purely speculative. For the
present discussion, the only important point is the number of C in internal clusters.

108 Adiego
Table 6.6 Words containg two vowels
C C C C C V C C C C V C C C
u p a
u p e
w p e
u q s i
u k s m u
w k s m u
i r o w
a l o s
a p m e n
a r i e? ś
w k s m u ś
a r m o n
u r s K l e ś
w ś o l+ +d ś
a r l i š ś
a r l i o m ś
a r t a y ś
i d y e s ś
i d m u o n ś
p o l o
s e m w ś
s i r a l
τ a m o u
K a r n o s
l o u b a w
l ý K s i ś
n a r i a s
š a y r i q
p i k r a ś
p i k r e ś
s o m n e ś
q a r p s i ś
q a r s i o [?]
q ý b l s i ś X
k i n+ +d b s i ś
d w ś o l d ś
m w d o n ś

C C C C C V C C C C V C C C
m w s a t ś
n i q a u ś
s a n u q ś
š e n u r t
τ a n a i ś
p a r m a ś ś
š a r n a i ś
t e r ý e z ś
p i k a r m ś
p a r p e y m ś
y i ś b i k s ś
t a š u b t ś
t r i q o
p d u b i ś
š r w l i ś
n t o k r i s X
p s i k r o ś
q l a l+ +d i ś
[q?] l a l+ +d i s
k l o r u l+ +d
p n u ś o l+ +d
t d u ś o l+ +d
q d a r ŕ o u ś
p t n u p i
t k r a β i ś
t t b a z i [ś]
t ŕ K a t a [r] ś X
p s m š k w n e i t X
Of these 68 words, only four present a clear violation of the SSG in the onset,
and all four cases again involve nasals and liquids: qýblsiś, tŕKata[r]ś, ntokris,
and psmškwneit. Analysed as trisyllabic words with a syllabic sonorant, all four
words offer a straightforward syllable structure:9
9 Against this parsing of psmškwneit one might argue that a form pismašk is attested in the rest
of the Carian corpus. But (1) we are dealing with a borrowed name, so the adaptation
may present alternations; (2) in this case, unlike the rest, a compound name is present.

110 Adiego
Table 6.7 Words containing two vowels and one syllabic sonorant
C C V C V C C V C C
n t o k r i s
q ý b l s i ś
t ŕ K a t a [r] ś
p s m š k w n e i t
Similar conclusions may be drawn from Tables 6.6 and 6.7 as from Tables 6.1–
6.4: maximal clusters of three members in the onset at the beginning of words
and in the coda at the end of words, and fulfilment of the SSG. Perhaps the
most striking new feature is given by the form ursKleś, the only example in
which a sequence of four interior consonants must be assumed. But it is very
interesting that the sound s appears in a central position in these clusters. Both
a parsing /ur.sKleś/ and a parsing /urs.Kleś/ are possible, and clearly support
the idea that in Caromemphite, as in many languages, s can occupy an excep-
tional position in the coda or in the onset. We therefore accept that in Car-
omemphite an internal cluster of four consonants may appear if at least one of
them is a sibilant.
4.8 Words with Three Vowels

The words that contain three plain vowels (or diphthongs) are represented to
the right in Table 6.8.10 No cases of SSG violation are attested in this list. Con-
sonant clusters are limited to a maximum of three segments both in initial and
in final position, and even so there are very few such clusters. The only exam-
ple of a 4 C cluster in internal position is paraiβreλś, if a parsing as /pa.raim.
breλś/ is accepted. But as mentioned above, in this case a hiatus between the
two compound elements para- and iβreλś should be assumed. Alternatively,
we may attribute the exceptional size of the cluster to the presence of the diph-
thong ai. In all cases, the resulting parsings respect the SSG and produce onsets
and codas of a typologically normal size.
Note moreover that the Greek adaptation of the name (Ψαμμήτιχος) points to an articula-
tion in which p and s are in the onset.
10 For the first word, ynemordś, I follow Schürr’s correct reading of the form (contra Adiego
2007, †ynemoriś).

Table 6.8 Words containing three vowels
C C C V C C V C C C C V C C C
y n e m o r d ś
y i a s i
w n u t i ś
y j a s [i] [ś]
i t u r o w ś
a r d y b y r ś
a [r] [b] i k a r m ś
š a r u ś o l+ +d
p u n w ś o l+ +d ś
š a r w l j a t ś
p a r a e y m
p a r a i m+ +b r e l+ +d ś
k u a r i ś b a r
4.9 Special Cases

In accordance with §4.5, śuγλiq, śuγλiś must be analysed as containing respec-
tively /n+g/ and /l+d/ or /l+l/. The problem is that we have no way of establish-
ing whether /λ/ here represents /l̥.d/~/l̥.l/ or rather /l.l/. In the latter case, the
onset would be formed by a cluster /gll/ (with a consonantal long, i.e. geminate
/l/?), as shown in Table 6.9a. I think that the alternative analysis (with /l̥/ and
three syllables per word) is to be preferred (Table 6.9b).
Table 6.9a Analysis of śuγλiq, śuγliś
C V C C C C V C
ś u n+ +g l+ +l i q
ś u n+ +g l+ +l i ś
Table 6.9b Alternative analysis of śuγλiq, śuγliś
C V C C V C V C
ś u n+ +g l+ +d i q
š u n+ +g l+ +d i ś

112 Adiego
5 Preliminary Conclusions about Syllable Structure in

Caromemphite
(1) From the data examined, we can establish the following pattern for Car-
omemphite syllables:
(C1)(C2)(C3)V(C4)(C5)(C6),
- where C6 always = ś, and
- where the SSG is fulfilled with the exception of sibilants.
This pattern shows the possible onsets at the beginning of the word and
the possible codas at the end. Word-internally, there is a maximum of
four segments between syllable peaks. This means that, ruling out im-
possible parsings like VCCCC.V and V.CCCCV, in word-internal posi-
tion as well there cannot be more than three C per onset and/or per
coda. For instance, in ursKleś all possible parsings – except for the two
impossible ones mentioned above – follow this restriction: …VCC.CCV…
(…urs.kle…), …VC.CCCV… (…ur.skle…), …VCCC.CV (…ursk.le…). A simi-
lar situation is visible in the other example of a 4 C internal cluster,
paraiβreλś. Here the possible parsings are …VC.CCCV… (…ai.mbre…),
…VCC.CCV… (…aim.bre…) and …VCCC.CV… (…imb.re…).
(2) There are no properly “vowelless” words. The only example, sb, is in fact a
proclitic word that can be interpreted as a part of the onset of a complex:
/sbpo.lo/.
(3) Therefore, an independent word must have at least one vowel. Curiously,
in monosyllabic words, this vowel is practically always one of the follow-
ing: a, e, o, i, u. w only appears as a solitary vowel in the isolated word w,
and j in the aberrant form k̑j. In the case of y, ý, we only have the very
ambiguous example šýinś, in which y may or may not be the syllable nu-
cleus (cf. supra §2). In monosyllabic words, no syllabic nasals or liquids
appear either.
(4) Point (3) may be extended to polysyllabic words, where we systematically
find a, e, o, i, u at least in one of the syllables. Examples of polysyllabic
words without one of these vowels are very scarce: mHmś, psHým[-]ś
(note that one letter is missing, so the example may not be properly
usable), pnlδśwl.
(5) Sibilants: as in many languages, Carian sibilants do not conform to the
SSG: they can occupy the edgemost position both in the onset and in
the coda.
(6) Syllabic nasals and liquids – or at least nasals and liquids accompanied
by unwritten supporting vowels – seem to exist in Caromemphite; when
we assume their existence, the syllable parsing becomes clear and
consistent.

(7) If we assume (5) and (6), the onset and coda respect the SSG. It must be
said, however, that some “heavy” clusters of stops must be accepted.
(8) Certainly, some of these “heavy” clusters appear in names borrowed from
Egyptian (ptnupi-, ttbazi-, pttu-, pKsimtś). Are we dealing with structures
atypical for Carian which the writing is attempting to reflect, or were
these structures acceptable in Carian and incorporated into the language
without difficulty?
(9) Our analysis has raised the possibility that δ, β, γ, λ are properly to be ana-
lysed as heterosyllabic biphonemic graphemes. According to this view,
they would represent /nd/, /mb/, /ng/, /ld/-/ll/, in which the first element
could function as syllabic nucleus in certain contexts. Similarly, z may
also be a biphonemic grapheme representing /st/.
5.1 Proper Vowels

Conclusions (2), (3) and (4) merit further reflection. They point to a crucial dif-
ferentiation between the vowels a, e, i, o, u and the rest of the sonorant
segments. I will call this inventory of segments “proper vowels”. In the case of
liquids and nasals this comes as no surprise, as we are dealing with basically
consonantal sounds which in some languages can also function as syllabic
nuclei.
More important, in my opinion, are the consequences of conclusions (2)–
(4) for the exact status of j, w, y, ý in Caromemphite, a very controversial ques-
tion. It is clear that these signs represent sounds whose appearance must have
been bound to particular conditions, because this is the only way of explaining
their distribution. Apart from their use in contact with proper vowels as glides
or members of diphthongs, with the exception of j11 they also seem to occupy
syllabic positions. Let us briefly discuss some aspects of w and y, ý.
5.2 The Sign v <w>

Interestingly, most examples of the sign w appear in nonfinal syllables. The
sole exceptions are the words semwś and pnlδśwl. Among the examples of ap-
parent use of w as syllabic nucleus in nonfinal syllables we find the curious
case, already noted in Adiego (2007), of the genitives wśoλś and compounds, in
clear contrast to the use of u for the corresponding nominative. In our subcor-
pus, this contrast is present in the pair pnuśoλ and punwśoλś – a particularly
striking case, because it also suggests an alternation between pn- and pun- at
the beginning of the word.
In Adiego (2007: 242) a first explanation was suggested: a displacement
of accent and use of w to represent /wV/. A shift of accent would be fully
11 As repeatedly mentioned, the sole example is the exceptional form k̑j.

114 Adiego
consistent with the results of our analysis of syllable structure in Caromem-

phite: the fact that, except in extremely rare cases, w cannot appear alone in
monosyllabic words and must be accompanied by a proper vowel in polysyl-
labic words points to a close connection between this sign and unstressed
position. It seems therefore that w represents either directly or indirectly an
unstressed vowel.
In Adiego (2007: 242) I suggested an indirect solution (w = /wV/), but now
I would not wish to rule out a direct solution (w = unstressed u). One way to
reconcile the two possibilities, at least diachronically, would be the following:
<w> could represent a graphical reminiscence of /wV/, although <w> would
not represent a longer /w/, but simply (unstressed, also short?) /u/. There is a
similar situation in Etruscan, in which v appears in certain contexts where it
seems to represent /u/ because the vowel that followed it is missing: the articu-
lated plural genitive -σvla vs. plural nominative -σva can be explained if behind
the spelling -σvla one sees the previous form *-σvala (< -σva + genitive ending
-la).12 It is probable that in Etruscan σvla sounded more like /šu.la/ than /šwla/,
which contains a very strange cluster. Similarly, we can imagine that in
punwśoλś perhaps we have simply /pú.nŭ.śoλś/ as the result of a previous /pún.
wə.śóλś/, by admitting a reduction process wə > /ŭ/ following the process wá >
ú (or perhaps ū́?) in the nominative. This hypothesis could explain (1)
the existence of a specific grapheme for /w/ in Caro-Egyptian, (2) the some-
what chaotic use of this grapheme in archaic Carian and (3) its disappear-
ance in later Carian alphabets: if the process of wə > u was generalized, the
replacement of w by simple u would have contributed to the loss of this
letter.
5.3 The Signs W <y>, w <ý>

Even more complicated is the case of <y>, <ý>. First, the relationship between
the two letters remains a mystery to me. No clear distributive principle can be
established prima facie, and the low number of attestations of both letters does
not allow a thorough study. We must therefore consider them jointly, as if they
represented the same thing.
The fact that they do not appear as the only vowels in Caromemphite words
seems to point to a similar analysis as that provided for w, that is, that they are
unstressed vowels. However, this cannot be clearly affirmed, for a variety of
reasons. First of all, in the form šýinś, although I have conventionally assumed
a parsing as ý = C, i = V, the fact that both ý and i represent high vowels makes
12 See Adiego 2006: 34.

it impossible to establish which vowel functioned as syllable nucleus, as I not-

ed above. Secondly, in some inscriptions that present an alphabet very close to
the Caromemphite alphabet, examples of ý as the sole vowel in a monosyllabic
word are attested: týn, ýbt. In this highly provisional study I have left out these
other materials, but it is impossible not to mention them. Finally, I have al-
ready referred to the fact that the number of examples is too limited to draw
reliable conclusions.
In any case, the tendency of y, ý to appear in immediate contact with other
vowels is clear: out of 18 examples of y, ý in Caromemphite, 13 are attested pre-
ceded or followed by another vocalic (or semivocalic) sign. I cannot add much
more about y/ý.
5.4 A Question of Stress

The fact that we have many examples of disyllabic words in which one syllable
nucleus is occupied by one of the proper vowels, whereas a syllabic liquid or
nasal appears in the other nucleus, points clearly to the existence of a stressed
vs. an unstressed syllable. The study of Caromemphite stress remains beyond
the scope of the present study, but it is a very interesting aspect which should
be studied in the future.
6 The Problem of the “Defective Notation of Vowels”
The present study has allowed us to establish that Caromemphite had a rather
regular and not excessively complex syllable structure, in any case not very dif-
ferent to that of (for instance) Latin. This conclusion is reached by simply as-
suming the existence of syllabic liquids and nasals. Certainly, there are some
examples of stop (or stop+fricative) clusters (such as ttbazi[ś], sbpolo), but
even in such cases, the SSG is not greatly violated and the restriction on the
number of C segments allowed in the onset and coda is respected. Neither
“vowelless” words nor extraordinary clusters are present.
However, the establishment of a regular and unexceptional syllable struc-
ture in Caromemphite raises an intriguing question: how should we interpret
the so-called defective notation of vowels? Clearly, we cannot claim that this
phenomenon existed in Caromemphite on the phonetic level; if it had, we
would have found a large number of unanalysable consonant clusters. In other
words, although the supposed vowels do not appear, the extant sequences of
segments constitute permissible syllable structures. This is an unexpected
finding in a writing system in which vowels are omitted either completely (as
for instance in Phoenician) or partially (as supposedly in Carian).

116 Adiego
But it is also clear that in Caromemphite we find examples of this “defective

notation of vowels” if we make comparisons with Carian names attested in
Greek sources. Let us go back to one of the examples mentioned at the begin-
ning of this paper. The name qlaλi- is attested in Greek sources as Κολαλδις,
Κυλαλδις. It is a typical example of a name in which the appearance of a vowel
between /k/ and /l/ in the Greek version cannot be easily attributed to its ad-
aptation to Greek, because the cluster /kl/ exists in this language.
At this point, I think that it is very interesting to introduce the differentia-
tion between excrescent and epenthetic vowels, established by Levin (1987)
and adopted by, among others, Bagemihl in his fundamental article on Bella
Coola (Bagemihl 1991). Although the framework of Levin’s article is the Gen-
erative Phonology of the 1980s, the concepts can be easily applied to our
discussion.
Two distinctive traits of excrescent vs. epenthetic vowels from Bagemihl’s
summary are relevant here (Bagemihl 1991: 600):
Excrescent vowel:
(a) “[its] quality is variable, generally determined by phonetic coarticulation
effects (either language-particular or universal) and frequently tends to-
ward schwa”;
(b) “its insertion is triggered not by unsyllabified consonants but rather by
the need to mediate a transition between adjacent articulations requir-
ing some degree of constriction in the oral tract”.
Epenthetic vowel:
(a) it generally has “a nonfluctuating quality”;
(b) its “insertion is conditioned by unsyllabified consonants”.
Hall (2011: 1584–1585) exemplifies excrescent vowels by means of the short

vowels that occur in consonant clusters in Piro, an Arawakan language spoken
in the Western Amazon. She mentions four other traits of excrescent vowels in
Piro which are highly relevant to our discussion:
– the presence of the excrescent vowel varies with the “syllabification” of a
consonant, as in /whene/ ‘child’, phonetically realized as [whene], [wəhene],
[wohene], [wïhene], [wuhene];
– excrescent vowels cannot bear any kind of stress;
– excrescent vowels are of much shorter duration than lexical vowels;
– in Piro orthography, the excrescent vowels are not written.
One aspect which has a strong bearing on our discussion is the fact that o/u in
Κολαλδις/Κυλαλδις corresponds closely to these traits of excrescent vowels: the
back and/or round quality of the inserted vowel seems to be determined by the

articulation of the preceding consonant, q, a uvular or labiovelar sound that

triggers similar insertions of back round vowels in other words. The oscillation
between o and u also points to the fluctuating nature of the sound and also
perhaps to a very short duration. Finally, Carian orthography does not reflect
this sound, and consequently it was hardly ever a stressed vowel.
This o/u sound could be inserted in order to mediate the transition between
q and l. But the most interesting point is that this insertion was not determined
by structural reasons. In other words, it was – or could have been – inserted in an
already well-constructed syllable structure. We can therefore imagine that
qlaλiś, a syllabically well-formed word, was phonetically articulated with the
(variable) insertion of a short excrescent vowel whose quality was determined
by the preceding stop:
/qlal.diś/
[qolal.diś]
In fact, supporting vowels accompanying syllabic liquids and nasals can also be
interpreted as excrescent vowels, as they do not affect the syllable structure.
pλeqś /pl̥.deqś/ [pel̥.deqś] cf. Πελδηκος

šrquqś /šr̥.quqś/ [šar̥.quqś] cf. Σαρ-
plqo /pl̥.qo/ [pel̥e.qo] cf. Πελ(λ)εκως
pikrmś /pi.k̥rmś/ [pi.karmś] cf. pikarmś
ksolbś /ksolbś/ [kasolabś] cf. Κασωλαβα
kbjomś /kbjomś/ [ke?bjomś] cf. Κεβιωμος
pnuśoλ /pnu.śold/ [ponu.śold] cf. Πονυσωλλος
śuγλiś /śun.gl̥.liś/ [śun.gel̥.liś] cf. Σουαγγελα
qýblsiś /qý.bl̥.siś/ [qý.bl̥.siś] cf. Κυβλισσ//ος//
ntokris (Egyptian) /n.to.kris/ [ni?.to.kris] cf. Νίτωκρις
The following objection to this analysis might be raised: in some cases, we

know or can imagine that the excrescent vowel corresponds to an originally
existing vowel. For instance, in sb=polo, we can parse /sbpo.lo/, with a complex
cluster, and might postulate one or two excrescent vowels for the complex on-
set created by the univerbation of the proclitic conjunction and the word:
[s(e)b(e)po.lo]. However, is this not the original situation, as shown by Milyan
sebe, and partially also Lycian se? I think that we can assume that excrescent
vowels in cases like this are either the result of a reduction of an original vowel
to a schwa-like sound that does not count in the syllable structure, or the result
of an insertion after reduction.

118 Adiego
In fact, there are cases in which it is clear that the excrescent vowel is not
etymological: in šar-/šr-, we can imagine a šr̥ from *sr(i). This form was articu-
lated alternatively with an excrescent vowel /a/ as šar-. This vowel is perhaps a
case of the tendency to phonologize the excrescent vowels coming from r̥ and
make them epenthetic, which would explain the frequency of this vowel even
in Carian writing. Also in the case of kbjomś- Κεβιωμος, the kb-cluster is p ossibly
original if it is directly derived from a Luwic /hwiyamma/i-/ “running, runner,
attendant” per Melchert (2013, 25), but this is a very hypothetical etymology.
Another interesting possibility is that Carian may have had alternant forms,
in which the proper vowels alternate with absence of vowels, which eventually
gave rise to excrescent vowels. The example of pn- vs. pun- thus perhaps re-
flects a wider phenomenon in Caromemphite and in Carian as a whole. The
proper vowels of some forms might also determine the timbre of the excres-
cent vowels inserted in a consonant cluster in other forms of the same para-
digm: punuśoλ vs. punwśoλś. This imitation of timbre can be explained either
as analogical or as a result of the reduction process that led to the (practically
total) loss of the unstressed/short vowels.
7 Conclusions
In spite of appearances, Caromemphite words offer a very regular and not par-
ticularly complex syllable structure, with a maximum of three consonants in
the onset and the coda, and a degree of fulfillment of the Sonority Sequencing
Generalization (SSG) similar to other languages in which only sibilants behave
in a particular manner. This analysis requires only that we accept the existence
of syllabic nasals and liquids in Caromemphite.
The above analysis creates a problem: if Caromemphite, as it is spelled, of-
fers words with well-formed syllable structures, how can we explain the so-
called defective notation of vowels? A possible solution is to interpret these
vowels as excrescent vowels in the sense of Levin, Bagemihl, Hall and others,
i.e. unstressed and very short vowels of fluctuating timbre that are inserted
without affecting the syllable structure of the word. These vowels may be ei-
ther the result of a reduction in unstressed positions of actual vowels – which
would explain certain correspondences with other Luwic languages – or a
mere insertion of a transitional sound in inherited consonant clusters. These
sounds were not usually written in Caromemphite, but they do appear in
Greek adaptations of Carian names. Further research is needed in order to es-
tablish whether a similar pattern of syllable structures and spelling procedures
is at work in the rest of the Carian documentation.

References
Adiego, I.-X. (2006) “Observaciones sobre el plural en etrusco”, in G. del Olmo, L. Feliu
and A. Millet (eds.), Šapal tibnin mû illakû, Studies Presented to Joaquín Sanmartín
on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday, Sabadell: \, 1–13, reproduced in: A. Ancillotti
and A. Calderini (eds.) L’umbro e le altre lingue dell’Italia mediana antica, Perugia:
Jama, 2009, 29–41.
Adiego, I.J. (2007) The Carian Language [HdO I/86], Leiden, Boston: Brill.
Bagemihl, B. (1991) Syllable structure in Bella Coola, Linguistic Inquiry 22/4, 589–646.
Blevins, J. (1995) The syllable in phonological theory, in J.A. Goldsmith (ed.), The Hand-
book of Phonological Theory, Cambridge, MA, Oxford: Blackwell, 206–244.
Hall, N. (2011) Vocalic epenthesis, in M. Van Oostendorp et al. (eds.), The Blackwell Com-
panion to Phonology, iii, Cambridge, MA, Oxford: Blackwell, 1576–1596.
Kloekhorst, A. (2008) Studies in Lycian and Carian phonology and morphology, Kad-
mos 47, 117–146.
Levin, J. (1987) Between epenthetic and excrescent vowels (or what happens after re-
dundancy rules), in M. Crowhurst (ed.), Proceedings of the West Coast Conference on
Formal Linguistics 6, Stanford: Stanford Linguistics Association, 187–201.
Melchert, H.C. (2013) Naming practices in second- and first-millennium Western Ana-
tolia, in R. Parker (ed.), Personal Names in Ancient Anatolia, Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 31–49.

Chapter 7
Tagging and Searching the Hittite Corpus

Dita Frantíková
Abstract
This article discusses the issues accompanying the creation of an electronic search tool
for the Hittite corpus. The research is based upon the project “Electronic Corpus of
Hittite”,1 which entails creating a working frame for inclusion of texts, tagging and
searching. The descriptive part of the working frame is not the core of the presented
text; instead, after a general introduction, the paper focuses on selected problems of
the electronic treatment of ancient cuneiform texts. Part 1 exposes the limits of digitiz-
ing the Hittite texts. Part 2 focuses on tokenizing and tagging, and Part 3 on the area of
electronic search. Of particular interest is the choice of search algorithms: standard
search methods are based on comparing letters, and the syllabic script has to be tested
for accuracy of such implementation. As full-text search is an insufficient tool for Hit-
tite, word approximation is necessary. Special issues of the data structure (such as
encoding of clitic chains) are also discussed. As the author is not aware of any funda-
mental description to date of encoding cuneiform languages, the presented article
covers a large area of study, which leads to restrictions in detail but lays the foundation
for further digital analysis.
Keywords
Hittite – smart search – corpus – tokenizing clitics – digitizing cuneiform
1 Introduction
1.1 From Cuneiform Tablet to Smart Search

Texts preserved to us through the centuries and millennia, written on perish-
able material which may undergo damage, captured in graphemic systems fa-
miliar to (at best) a group of local scribes, require special attention. Ever since
1 The work on digitizing the Hittite corpus is in progress at the Institute of Comparative
Linguistics, Charles University, Prague.

Tagging and Searching the Hittite Corpus 121
the Brown corpus (Kučera and Francis: 1967), it has proved obvious that lin-
guistic work cannot proceed without digitally elaborated texts. The computer-
ized corpus of a language is meant to serve as an instrument which provides
comparable accurate data and can be a starting point for linguistic inquiry. It is
not meant to be a goal of the effort, but rather a shared platform of scientific
research.
The issue of providing a digital tool for the study of an ancient language is a
complex task. The overall work covers questions of digitizing, annotation and
analysis. Each of these fields may profit from the achievements of current cor-
pus linguistics, but certainly cannot apply its methods without making
adjustments.
In this article, I tackle some of the problems encountered while processing
Hittite for computer use. Besides briefly commenting on general issues of digi-
tizing and annotating as well as searching, I focus on the problems of digitizing
enclitic chains (§2.1) and lemma ambiguity (§3), and introduce the problem of
smart search in Hittite (§5) with discussion of the suitability of common string
matching algorithms (§5.2).
1.2 The Three Milestones: Digitizing, Annotating and Searching

Text digitizing is a vital step in the development of Hittite studies. Recently,
attempts to create online text databases have come into focus. While such a
database is not presently available, there are several research centres that are
attempting to provide one. Until this day, readers of Hittite texts must depend
on printed editions such as Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texten, edited by the
Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur Mainz, and Dresdner Beiträge
zur Hethitologie, which from 2002 until today has issued transliterations of the
Keilschrifttexte aus Boghazköi (KBo) and Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi
(KUB); both of these editions provide transliterated texts. (The autographs of
the cuneiform tablets have been published in several collections and are iden-
tified by a unique number.) The free online sources, such as Textzeugnisse der
Hethiter, provide only the tip of the iceberg of the sheer volume of Hittite texts,
spanning a wide range of genres preserved on several tens of thousands of tab-
lets.2 To search the corpus for a specific problem, the researcher must depend
on their knowledge of texts (hardly detailed for the number of tablets) and
their own digitized texts, stored typically as a Word editor file, which they may
have collected or copied themselves. Digitizing thus clearly emerges as a
2 Aside from the rituals, the Hittite text files made available by the titus project (Thesaurus
Indogermanischer Text- und Sprachmaterialien, http://titus.uni-frankfurt.de/) are restricted
to members.

122 Frantíková
riority for the further technology-oriented development of Hittite linguistic

p
studies.
Token annotation is the next step, one which cannot be undertaken without
many language-specific decisions. The questions of annotating are complex
and require detailed investigation. The syntactic annotation of Hittite texts fol-
lowing the framework of Universal Dependencies is in progress at the Univer-
sity of Pavia (Inglese 2016) and provides useful background for annotating an
ancient cuneiform language. The desired levels of tagging are manifold; their
achievement is based not only on current possibilities, but also on the quality
of material and possibilities of reaching conclusions on selected features of
the texts.
Searching Hittite texts requires a so-called smart search, where the user
need not give an exact match of the searched text. For Hittite, a smart search is
only superficially a matter of “going the extra mile”. In fact, without it, the digi-
tized search tool remains only a weak support of a dictionary volume search.
The originals of the texts in question are ancient tablets, mostly broken, with a
high number of incomplete clauses and incomplete or only partially readable
forms. At the same time, the Hittite corpus is diachronic in nature, covering
four centuries of writing development. In such a case, a plain full text search
cannot yield satisfactory results. It must be made possible to find incomplete
forms as well as forms with variant spellings.
2 Digitizing
The scribes who created the Hittite texts wrote in cuneiform script; the texts
were recorded (mostly) on clay tablets. The most accurate sources of data are
therefore the tablets themselves.
The desired outcome of text processing (parts of which are already under-
taken by different scientific institutions)3 is to have quality tablet photos
alongside their transliterations and translations, and possibly autographs. The
available material is extremely extensive; as stated of cuneiform artefacts by
Cammarosano (Fisseler et al. 2014: 171), “in view of 500.000 fragments of clay
tablets, the availability of fast, reliable and automatic methods is urgently
3 Cf. the project of the Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur in Mainz, Das Corpus
der hethitischen Festrituale: staatliche Verwaltung des Kultwesens im spätbronzezeitlichen
Anatolien; the Annotated Corpus of Luwian Texts (by I. Yakubovich, in progress); the Old Hit-
tite Treebank (Inglese 2016); the Leiden Corpus of Hittite Texts (by A. Kloekhorst, in progress);
and others.

Figure 7.1 Tablet Kt 94/k 581b. (Kültepe 1994, excavated in the kārum (lower town),
published by M. Larsen as akt 6a 9b in The Archive of the Šalim-Aššur
Family, Volume 1: The First Two Generations [Kültepe Tabletleri vi-a],
Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 2010.)
ecessary”. Digitizing cuneiform texts has recently progressed for Akkadian,

n
where the digital database of cuneiform texts, both tablet images and their
transliterations with translations, is soon to appear online.4 For Hittite studies,
the primary goal is to digitize the multiple available transliterations.
At present, tablet autographs are often the only source of the original cunei-
form script. Tablet photos available online often do not provide sufficient stan-
dards of readability and high quality. Easily legible pictures, such as the one in
the example below, are (so far) scarce.
4 The Old Assyrian Research Environment, part of the Online Cultural and Historical Research
Environment hosted by the University of Chicago at ochre.lib.uchicago.edu.

124 Frantíková
Preparing an autograph is not simply a mechanical enterprise, but rather

one that requires the author’s mental input. As some signs and above all, partly
broken signs may be understood in various ways, creating an autograph will
always be a scientific interpretation of the text (not to mention the possibility
of mistakes). This holds all the more for transliterations; the reader inevitably
relies on their accuracy. Even if produced with the best possible quality, be-
cause of the need for disambiguation on certain points (e.g. whether a Sum-
erogram is functioning as a logogram or a determinative), interpretation
cannot and should not be avoided in every case.
Thus, when digitizing the Hittite corpus, the raw data cannot be compared
to modern corpora where one can rely upon the language capacity of the cre-
ators and users of the corpus. At present, it appears sensible to include avail-
able transliterations and allow for inevitable corrections at a later date. The
layer of photos, autographs and automatic recognition of cuneiform signs (i.e.,
programmes that can rewrite signs from a photograph) mark the next logical
step. A layer of transcription can then be created automatically. As this process
is unidirectional (as different transliterated signs are represented in the same
manner, transliteration is not recoverable from transcription), these two levels
are not interchangeable.
2.1 The Marking of Clitics

Clitic chains, attached to the first word of a sentence, are a frequently encoun-
tered sentential element of Hittite. The clitics are ordered in a specific sequence
(Laroche 1958: 161, Garrett 1990, Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 410, Kloekhorst
2014).
The denotation of clitics is one of the major problems in digitizing Hittite
transliterations (Inglese 2016: 13).5 The handling of clitics in transliteration can
take several forms (in transcription, they may easily be separated convention-
ally by the equal sign, e.g. nu=nnaš). One option is not to isolate clitics as such
in the script at all. Thus, one would write e.g. nu-un-na-aš and the tokens would
be separated by an advanced tool which, based on certain criteria, would be
able to suggest the position of the word split and create individual tokens nu
and (u)n-na-aš while preserving the information that they form a unit. This is
not a recommended procedure as, because of the variation in analyzing the
enclitics, the amount of manual work would still be very high. The other op-
tion is to mark up clitics in the text. The convention is to use either the
“Frakturhyphen” of CHD or the equal sign “=” (e.g. Melchert 2001). In case of a
5 The denotation of clitics determines proper tokenization, as well as proper treatment of the
cuneiform signs.

sign which is an outcome of a phonemic merger, inserting “=” in the “middle”

of a sign is the rule, i.e. nu-u=n-na-aš or ma-a-n=a-aš as opposed to nu=uš. In
such cases, the unadjusted automatic split (where the equal sign marks up as a
split sign) creates such tokens as e.g. ma-a-n and a-aš. However, there is no
cuneiform sign n, nor is the word -aš preceded by a vowel sign a (its transcrip-
tion would than falsely yield āš). These inaccuracies lead to various adjust-
ments: for example, following the practice of some cuneiform databases one
can create on the one hand an epigraphic version of the text, and on the other
hand a discourse version in which linguistic information is coded, separate
from the epigraphic. While the best adjustment of the algorithm is up to the
decision of the analyst, the following “illegal” results must be avoided:
– creating signs which are against cuneiform rules, nonexistent or at least not
present (e.g. n);
– preventing signs from functioning as a single unit (e.g. allowing for u=n to
function as un);
– preventing words from being accurately full-searched, based on the pecu-
liarity of clitic notation (e.g. un-na-aš stands for the lexeme nnaš/naš);
– creating false transcriptions (e.g. by allowing for a word split a-aš, which
yields āš in transcription).
A suggested treatment which returns valid results is to adjust texts so as to
avoid splitting signs. As the reason for splitting signs by the equal sign is prag-
matic (to allow for easier search in the text editor), this can well be avoided and
rearranged as shown in the following table:
With this adjustment, the forms preserve their original orthography, as long
as they retain the equal sign as an integral component. When lemmatized,
they thus retain the feature “clitic”, and any specifics (e.g. uš-ši for šši) can be
explained as the result of their syntactic position.
Table 7.1 Treatment of clitic chains for tokenizing purposes
Clitic chain Unadjusted Adjusted chain Adjusted tokens,

transcription transcription
n=a-at n; āt na=at na=; =at

ú-et=ma=at uet; ma; at ú-et=ma=at uet=; =ma=; =at
n=a-aš n; āš na=aš na=; =aš
nu-u=š-ši nū; šši nu=uš-ši nu=; =ušši
n=a-an=kán n; ān; kan na=an=kán na=; =an=; =kan

126 Frantíková
2.2 Typographic Issues

The unification of typographic style requires a set of transliteration standards.
As different authors and editions use different signs mainly for the metadata,
there arises a need to employ such a standardized mark-up which will enable
most readers to use it without specific training. Special codes have to be used
for text borders, paragraphs, denotations of broken signs, etc. Sumerograms
and Akkadograms have to be made graphically distinct from Hittite words, as
is the convention in transliterations.
3 Tokenizing
Text tokenizing is a prerequisite to search, translation and tagging. The prob-

lem to deal with in the case of cuneiform material, beside incomplete tokens,
is the absence of unified orthography, which makes it more difficult to inter-
pret the text properly. As the basic unit of annotation is the syntactic, not or-
thographic word (UD: 2016), decisions have to be made in the area of clitic
chains (see below). Otherwise, Hittite does not tend to aggregate forms; the
negation particles are an extra unit (Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 341 with refs.),
and compounds are exclusively lexical (Hoffner 1966).
From the perspective of the coding recorded by a Hittite scribe, the spoken
language was captured with a graphotactics partly based on phonological per-
ception and partly on other features (tradition; scribal school). The morpho-
logical layer was not the decisive factor for the method of recording. The effort
to interpret such records from a morphological perspective may thus well yield
ambiguous results, as discussed below in the case of clitic chains.
There are specific reasons for lemma ambiguity in a syllabically rendered
language (Krebernik 1996: 234) as compared to a modern language corpus.
These include form parallelism and semantic parallelism, as well as the incon-
sistent representation of word forms, with inconsistent transliteration on top
of that to boot.
On the other hand, form parallelism is not a major issue in the Hittite
corpus. Although expected for a morphology-marking language (Kaalep 2012:
85), it is mainly avoided due to the insufficiency of data. Most morphological
forms are preserved in a handful of (or even one) attestations, and some
forms are typically missing. Parallel lexical roots are usually realized in dif-
ferent morphological forms. The following example shows both the variabil-
ity of writing and the overlap of the verbs pai- “go, pass” and pai-/pi- “give,
pay”:

Table 7.2 Selected morphological slots of Hittite verbs pai- “go, pass” and pai-/pi- “give, pay”
Morphological form pai- “go, pass” pai-/pi- “give, pay”
1SG.PRES.ACT pé-e-eḫ-ḫi, pé-eḫ-ḫi, pa-i-mi, pa-a-i-mi,

pé-e-eḫ-ḫé pa-a-mi
2SG.PRES.ACT pa-it-ti, pa-iš-ti, pé-eš-ti pa-i-ši, pa-a-i-ši, pa-it-ti,
pa-a-ši
3SG.PRES.ACT pa-a-i, pa-i pa-iz-zi, pa-i-iz-zi,
pa-a-iz-zi
1PL.PRES.ACT pí-i-ú-e-ni, pí-ú-e-ni, pí-ya- pa-i-wa-ni, pa-a-i-wa-a-ni,
u-e-ni, pí-i-ya-u-e-ni pa-a-i-wa-ni, pa-i-ú-wa-ni,
pa-a-i-u-e-ni- pa-i-u-e-ni,
pa-a-u-e-ni
2SG.PRET.ACT pa-it-ta, pé-eš-ta pa-it-ta
3PL.PRET.ACT pí-i-e-er, pí-i-er, pí-e-er, pa-a-er, pa-i-er, pa-er,
pí-ya-er, pí-er pa-a-e-er, pa-e-er
As this example shows, the heterogeneity of the records is high, and so is the
heterogeneity of morphological form: overlap is found only in some forms of the
second singular of both present and past forms (marked in the table in bold).
As for semantic parallelism, the disambiguation of ambiguous forms in the
case of Hittite is a matter of informed decision based on textual analysis. As
the most frequent words of a language are as a rule polysemous (Agirre and
Edmonds 2007: 1), disambiguation must be based on the environment of a par-
ticular word form. Without doubt, this task will eventually find support in
computational techniques, but at present and for the near future, it must de-
pend on the researcher’s understanding of the context, genre and usage of a
given lexeme.
Furthermore, the problem of text translation is not so much the problem of
unknown lexemes, but rather of multiple meanings for a given lexeme that
make text interpretation so difficult. Incomplete clauses are another frequent
obstacle for semantic interpretation in a text-corpus language such as Hittite.
A specific problem for Hittite is the tokenizing of clitics. As shown in the
previous section (§2.1), clitic chains must be properly digitized. Cuneiform or-
thography poses numerous challenges in this regard: e.g. the orthography of
nu-uš-ši seems to imply that such a chain of signs stands for nu+ušši, but in fact
it is the rendering of nu+šši. Likewise, one must take into account consonant

128 Frantíková
mergers, e.g. iš-ki-še-et representing iškiš+šet, not iški+šet; at-ta-aš-mi-iš repre-

senting attaš+šmiš, not atta+šmiš. If one strives to retain a single textual layer
(not keeping an extra epigraphic and discourse layer), it proves useful to retain
“=” as a part of the token (disregarded when dealing with individual signs) and
keep the word boundary at the sign boundary, as e.g. iš-ki=še-et. The morpho-
logical form (in this case, nom.sg.) will be disambiguated on the tagging level.
However, as it is important to retain the graphemic representation of tokens, it
is advisable to add a special sign denoting a “missing” part, e.g. iš-ki-{iš}=. It is
obvious that such insertion will require an interpretation which, as with any
interpretation, introduces the risk of error.
3.1 Treatment of Text in a Token Editor

The following example shows the level of preservation of a prototypical Hittite
text. Incomplete or added tokens are given in italics:
1[ ]URU[
2[ °-a]n LÚ URUU[r-šu-°
3[ an-d]a=pát IS.-BAT ša=a[n
4 na=an nam-ma ḫu-ul-le-et ši-°[
5 ša=an tu-ut-tu-ut a-aš-šu=uš-še-et [da-a-aš
6 [ku]-it-ki ú-e-mi-et x[
7 [ ]MÁŠ ŠEŠ=ŠU URUḪa-[at-tu-ša u-da-aš
8 [ÉRIN.MEŠ URUZa]-al-pa ú-et nu URU[
9 [mA-nu-um-ḫ]é-er-wa+a-š=a pa-it [
10 [ t]i a-x[
The example shows that in ten lines, eighteen tokens are complete; the rest of
the text is to some extent unreliable. Some tokens are supplied and cannot be
used for a search, while others may be reconstructed with some level of reli-
ability (e.g. kuitki).
The following image shows the way a transliterated text may be handled in
a token editor.6 The editor automatically splits the text (the full text is recorded
in the box on the right side) into lines (on the left). When a discrete line is un-
folded, tokens are split into sub-lines. In the first column of the TableEditForm,
each token is given its label, e.g. PreD (pre-determinative), PostD (post-
determinative), blank (word), brackets (supplied). The value is paired auto-
matically and, if necessary, edited manually. The second column of the
TableEditForm contains the respective token. In the third column, following
the token, it is assigned a quality label: “unreliable”, “unreadable” or “ ” (i.e.,
6 The software solution, including the editor, is part of the outcome of the project “Electronic
Corpus of Hittite”, which will be made available by Charles University.

blank); other labels may be added on demand. In the fourth column of the edi-
tor, words of “blank” quality are paired with a lemma.
Figure 7.2 Transliterated text in token editor
3.2 Tokenized Corpus Usage

The tokenized text may be utilized for the following purposes:
Table 7.3 Employment of tokenized corpus
Token search (Ctrl+F equivalent) Looking up all occurrences of a

specific word form (e.g., attaš)
Lexeme search (repeated Ctrl+F Looking up all occurrences of all
equivalent) forms of a lemma (e.g., attaš, attan,
attuš etc.)
Morphological search Looking up occurrences of specific
morphological feature (e.g., genitive
singular; apposition)
Textual analysis Identification and examination of
the properties of textual information
(frequencies, keywords etc.)
Morphological analysis Analysis of word formation and
grammatical structures of words.

130 Frantíková
Table 7.3 Employment of tokenized corpus (cont.)
Byproduct: automatic dictionary As tokens are aligned to lemmas, an

automatic dictionary is produced
within the process.
Study tool The tokenized corpus is a perfect aid
in understanding words and contexts.
The token search conducted upon digitalized and tokenized texts can be devel-
oped in multiple ways, as discussed in detail in §5 below. Not only can it search
for exact matches as a regular text finder in a text editor, but it also allows for
approximation and provides suggestions for further usage.
4 Annotating
The primary goal of annotating a corpus (diachronic as well as synchronic) is

to link a range of tags and metadata to the original text. It should help to retain
linguistically relevant information from the original, e.g. information on the
script and preservation quality (DIAKORP 2016). The choice of tagging layers
is optional; tagging can either focus exclusively on grammatical (morphologi-
cal) information or provide additional data (syntactic layer; information on
text genre; information on the original text; image of the original; layer of cu-
neiform script). The Golden Rule of morphology states that the pair <lemma,
morphological tag> serves as a unique identifier of each word form (Hlaváčová
2009: 6). It leads to such conclusions as preferring unclassified tags to ambigu-
ous tags or tags based on the interpretation of the annotator.
While most attributes are not part of the text itself and do not interfere with
text counts, some of the tags must receive their own text position, as do the
word tokens, and consequently participate in the statistics. They include at
least tags that indicate breaches, added information (if considered relevant)7
and clitic boundaries.
The need may arise to somehow capture scribal errors or other unusual un-
expected graphic features. It has proved useful to use a special attribute which
shows the original writing, captured in any useful way without a need for
7 The author of the corpus has the choice of including or excluding incomplete text; either
possibility has to be tagged with an internal tag.

s pecial restrictions, e.g. <aḫ>/aš, where the brackets enclose an emended piece
of text and the original sign is found transcribed after the slash.
As for syntactic annotation, the scheme for handling fragmentary sentences
is discussed by Inglese (2016), following Zemánek (2007), Giusfredi (2015), Mo-
lina and Molin (2016) and others. He suggests a unified account of the annota-
tion of fragmentary sentences (p. 61), within which he aims at reducing the
level of speculation over possible syntactic relations of missing or broken to-
kens. Although the issue is studied in detail, for many features of Hittite no
satisfactory theoretical solutions have been reached so far. This covers mainly
syntactic annotation of structures with damaged or missing valence heads. It
is difficult to retain a reasonable level of simplicity while at the same time tag-
ging the quality and reliability of broken or missing tokens.
4.1 Analysing Hittite Morphology for Annotating Purposes

Morphological analysis aimed at tagging text tokens works with isolated word
forms, regardless of their context; its outcome are morphological indices. The
other part of the result is a lemma, which identifies the abstract lexical unit, in
the sense of unambiguous identification of its dictionary entry.
In general, morphological analysis cannot avoid ambiguity; many tokens
cannot be properly tagged without considering their context, semantic and
syntactic.
4.2 Tag Positions

The basic unit of the corpus is a document <doc>, which can be split into texts
<text> (every document contains at least one text) and further into paragraphs
 and sentences <s>. Of these, metadata is usually connected to the docu-
ment and text. For a document, they are above all the title, Id number, CTH
number, publication Id, text type, genre, historical period (OH/MH/NH), and
type of script (NS/MS/OS). The tags assigned to the texts are imprinted to all
of its tokens.
Every tag identifying a token is represented by a string of indices. While it is
reasonable to keep them at a manageable level, it is certainly desirable to oc-
cupy as many slots as possible, as they become the data for searches based on
grammatical and other categories.
For Hittite, the positions may supply the information displayed in the fol-
lowing table:
Note on position 1, “word class”: Beside the prototypical word classes (noun,
adjective, verb, pronoun, number, particle [including the negation particles],
interjection, conjunction, adposition, adverb, preverb, and the class of deter-
minatives), it is advisable to introduce three new categories: oscillating word

132 Frantíková
Table 7.4 Tag positions for the Hittite corpus
Example position Information

in a tag
Position 1 Word class (core word class of the token)

Position 2 Subposition (global detailed category relevant for the
whole paradigm, eg. deverbative substantive)
Position 3 Gender, nominal (relevant for substantives, adjectives,
some numerals, some pronouns, some infinite verb
forms)
Position 4 Number (relevant both for nominal and verbal
declensions)
Position 5 Case (relevant for nominal declensions and also for
adpositions, where it denotes their valence
possibilities)
Position 6 Possesum gender
Position 7 Possesum number
Position 8 Person (relevant for pronouns and verbs)
Position 9 Tense
Position 10 Grade (relevant for adjectives and adverbs)
Position 11 Verb form (relevant for verbs and uninflected infinite
verbals; includes mood and type of non-finite form)
Position 12 Voice (relevant for verbs and participles)
Position 13 Enclitic (relevant for members of the enclitic chain)
Position 14 Textual completeness of the token
Position 15 Aspect (relevant for verbs)
form8 (e.g. adposition/preverb or substantivized adjective, in cases where it is

not possible to make the distinction or where the distinction is unnecessary),
foreign word (this category includes only words that are not adapted to the
Hittite morphological system) and unknown words (those that cannot be
classed under any other label; they may be misspelled words, ciphers etc.).
Hittite words coded by special orthography – the logograms – are coined with
8 This distinction helps to identify cases of homonymy, and also helps to specify statistics
which are influenced by different opinions of the annotators (Osolsobě et al. 2017: 225–234).

the tags appropriate to Hittite morphology (e.g., an Akkadian genitive form

denoting the Hittite nominative is tagged as “nominative”). The descriptive is-
sues of logograms must be handled in another layer of annotation.
5 Searching
Since the Archie search engine of 1990, web search software has been one of
the fastest developing and most discussed (Brin and Page 1998; Lawrence and
Giles 1999). From the original full text search, the focus is on exploring the us-
er’s behaviour and adjusting the results based on anticipation of the searched
item. The following picture illustrates the connection between the original text
and its search.
The information from the original tablets is converted into a printable ver-
sion of autographs and/or transliterations. Such data serves as the source of
the corpus, which in turn is the source of the dictionary. When the texts of the
tablets are tokenized (i.e., when word forms are separated), they may be an-
notated in multiple layers. The basic layers are composed of the morphological
Figure 7.3 From table to smart search

134 Frantíková
and the lemma layer. Based on the annotated data, it is possible to perform
statistics and analyses of different kinds. On the web interface, the user can
enter queries of different kinds and perform textual analysis.
To match the expectations of the inquirer, the search must enable advanced
functions other than a plain exact search. It is thus quite important to employ
a so-called smart search. On the surface, a smart search provides the user with
a single, easy-to-use search field into which the user enters their queries with-
out prior understanding of the system’s operation. On a deeper level, the
search combines multiple functions which foresee the user’s behaviour and
contribute to obtaining the proper results.
5.1 Justification for Smart Search

In working with the Hittite corpus, one encounters alternations in writing con-
ventions within a single lexeme (see Table 7.2, the example of pai-/pi, above).
Some changes are diachrony-based (the texts span approximately 400 years),
but other factors are also at work: the possibility of recording a unit in several
ways, the native language of the scribe and not least the existence of erroneous
spellings. Attestations of a unit (word) with equal grammatical categories of-
ten differ in form, as shown above for verbs. This is also true for other catego-
ries, e.g.:
palḫi- ‘wide, broad’ nom. pl. commune: pal-ḫa-a-e-eš, pal-ḫa-a-eš,

pal-ḫa-e-eš, pal-ḫi-e-eš
In the case of palḫi-, the reasons for the different spellings may be understood
in diachronic terms. But regardless of the cause, the Hittite corpus abounds in
variant spellings and therefore it is necessary to employ a smart search tool.
While the easiest way is to search by lexeme and thus obtain a reference to an
index, this would require a faultlessly tagged corpus for lexemes. The results of
such a search would thus be only partially productive.9 The user of a digitized
corpus should not be forced to enter an accurate query, but rather should re-
ceive suggestions which allow for specification of the original query not only
by means of translation but also based on grammatical categories, lexeme in-
dex or their respective combinations (e.g. lemma + grammatical category).
9 While incomplete words in general must be omitted from the search for their unreliability,
there are cases when e.g. only the ending is missing or part of one of the signs is broken. In
such cases, the criterion of incompleteness would rule out much relevant material.

5.2 The Problem of String Matching

The type of searching algorithm has to be chosen based on the character of the
corpus; in our case, a diachronic corpus, written in a syllabic script, and in an
extinct language, which implies that it is being searched by a nonnative speak-
er. To maximize the usefulness of the search, it is necessary to use an approxi-
mate string matching algorithm (i.e., string matching algorithm with errors),
where the data need to be analysed for preprocessing.
The first problem is the question of the character of the script. When work-
ing with a transliterated string, the search can be run based on letters (including
or excluding separators) or based on syllables, which better corresponds to the
original writing.
In the course of its history, Hittite employed over five hundred signs; they
are transliterated for the use of modern science by as few as sixteen graphemes
of the Latin script (A, E, H, I, K, L, M, N, P, Š, T, U, W, Z) plus two which are found
in transcription of Sumerograms (B, S). For search by a sign, every sign can be
appointed a unique value (e.g., a number) and as such be used in search algo-
rithms. The problem of such an approach, although seemingly closest to reali-
ty, is that the edit distance (i.e., the minimum number of edits required to
convert one string to another) between e.g. nu and na is the same as between
e.g. nu and šu (i.e., maximal). Such a search yields very vague results.
Example:
Edit distance,10 letter and syllable based

pal-ḫa-a-e-eš x pal-ḫi-e-eš (both “wide, broad”, nom. pl.)
Letter-based (including separators): 3/13
Letter-based (without separators): 2/9
Syllable-based: 2/5
As is shown in the example, the absolute edit distance is either 3 or 2, while the
relative edit distance (i.e. with regards to the number of units) shows great dif-
ferences (3/13, 2/9; 2/5). The letter-based transformation captures the relative
closeness of the two forms, while the cuneiform sign-based transformation
equates (in the sense of necessary edits needed in order to obtain pal-ḫa-a-e-eš)
the word pal-ḫi-e-eš to e.g. ḫar-ša-a-e-eš “thick-bread”, nom. pl. Consequently, a
10 The edit operations used for string transformation as understood here are insertion, dele-
tion and substitution. In this elementary example, they are used in their simplest version;
each operation counts as one unit. In other algorithms, the operations are typically de-
fined with a weight function, e.g. wins(x).

136 Frantíková
search based on syllables proves less useful than one based on letters. (The role
of separators will be discussed below.)
The types of algorithms used for comparing strings in other fields of science
and business are phonetic-based algorithms, users’ behaviour-based algorithms
and string-based algorithms (i.e., letter-based). Phonetic-based algorithms,
such as Soundex,11 Metaphone (Philips 1990: 39) or Caverphone (Rodichevski
2016), encode homophones with the same representation. This aids the user in
receiving an accurate output even if an inexact query has been inserted. Pho-
netic coding is chiefly consonant-based (vowels are accounted for only if they
appear in the initial position in the token). They are created for the use of Eng-
lish speakers (especially for American English pronunciation) and help to
accommodate spelling mistakes of words used in the English-speaking envi-
ronment (typically names used in the United States; they were first created in
order to compare names in the U.S. census in 1880). For this reason, they are
inappropriate for a diachronic corpus of a language other than English. How-
ever, it cannot be excluded that their use may yield results comparable to a
search based on orthography. The fact that needs to be accounted for is that
the search is being done by a speaker of the English language. Misspellings will
most probably be based on a mental picture of Hittite that originates in the
person’s most commonly used language. As English has become a lingua fran-
ca of today’s science, phonetic-based algorithms conforming to the user’s lan-
guage may thus be a reasonable option.
Algorithms used by modern web search engines base their results on users’
behaviour, on their entry and on statistical methods. For example, Google pre-
fers results which have been found satisfactory by previous users; they are as-
signed higher ranking. However, a corpus of the size of the Hittite texts is too
small to successfully apply such statistical methods.
String matching algorithms, such as the Levenshtein distance12 (Levensh-
tein 1965: 845), the Knuth-Morris-Prat algorithm (Knuth et al. 1977), the
Ratcliff-Obershelp pattern recognition13 (Ratcliff 1988: 46) or the Jaro-Winkler
11 Soundex was patented by Robert C. Russell in 1918 (US Patent No 1,261,167Russell) and
served originally as a tool of disambiguation of names in genealogical search. It was not
connected to electronic applications until several decades later.
12 Levenshtein definitions: (1) The smallest number of insertions, deletions, and substitu-
tions required to change one string or tree into another; (2) A Θ(m × n) algorithm to com-
pute the distance between strings, where m and n are the lengths of the strings (Black 2004).
13 Ratcliff-Obershelp Similarity definition: Compute the similarity of two strings as the dou-
bled number of matching characters divided by the total number of characters in the two
strings. Matching characters are those in the longest common subsequence plus,
recursively, matching characters in the unmatched region on either side of the longest com-
mon subsequence (Black 2004). The best agreement has the value 1, no agreement has 0.

algorithm (Jaro 1976), operate on the basis of comparing textual similarity

metrics.14 While Levenshtein computes the edit distance between strings, Rat-
cliff-Obershelp also takes into account the total number of characters in the
two strings, while the Jaro-Winkler measure operates with the weighted sum of
percentage of matched and transposed characters from each file and with
matching initial characters, later rescaled so that the intervals and weights de-
pend on the string quality (Black 2014). These algorithms use a scale between 0
and 1, where 0 denotes totally nonmatching strings and 1 denotes equal strings.
On a sample of a Hittite text, we tested several algorithms (Jaccard Distance,
Sorensen Dice Distance, Tanimoto Coefficient, etc.). The table below gives the
results for (unfitting) Ratcliff-Obershelp, which indexes the distance between
ma-a-an and nam-ma as equal to the distance of ma-a-(a)n (adjusted enclitic
form ma-a-na) and ma-a-an:
More appropriate results for cuneiform transliteration are returned by the
Levenshtein and the Jaro-Winkler algorithms. These two are worth pursuing
further for accuracy and behaviour on strings adjusted according to certain
criteria.
Table 7.5 Ratcliff-Obershelp algorithm, search pattern: ma-a-an
Ratcliff Obershelp Similarity – Ratcliff Obershelp Similarity-

including separators without separators
------------------- -------------------
nam-ma | ma-a-an :0,615384615384615 ma-a-(a)n | ma-a-an :0,666666666666667
ma-a-(a)n | ma-a-an :0,615384615384615 ma-a-an | ma-a-an :0,6
ma-a-an | ma-a-an :0,571428571428571 nam-ma | ma-a-an :0,6
a-an | ma-a-an :0,545454545454545 ma | ma-a-an :0,571428571428571
I-NA | ma-a-an :0,545454545454545 MA | ma-a-an :0,571428571428571
A-NA | ma-a-an :0,545454545454545 MU-an-ti | ma-a-an :0,545454545454545
MU-an-ti | ma-a-an :0,533333333333333
14 These algorithms are representatives of many other, refined searches, such as Simple Op-
timal String Matching Algorithm (Allauzen and Raffinot 2000) or fast approximate string
matching (Baeza-Yates and Navarro 1998). Today´s trends are towards focusing on the
speed of the search, e.g. for exact string matching, graphics processing units applied to
string matching (Frías and Lombardo 2017). Such features are of limited interest to cor-
pora of ancient languages, as time optimization, for example, is not the major goal of
search improvement for the Hittite corpus described here.

138 Frantíková
The next table gives the results of three different types of Levenshtein
(github). Because Levenshtein counts the number of necessary edits, the best
match gets the value 0, while the value 3 means that three edits are required in
order to transform the first string into the other:
Table 7.6 Levenshtein algorithm, search pattern: ma-a-an
(Including separators) (Without separators) (Dictionary entry)
------------------- ------------------ -------------------

ma-a-an | ma-a-an :0 ma-a-an | ma-a-an :0 ma-a-an | ma-a-an :0
ta-a-an | ma-a-an :1 ta-a-an | ma-a-an :1 ma-a-(a)n | ma-a-an :0
ma-a-(a)n | ma-a-an :1 ma-a-(a) | ma-a-an :1 ta-a-an | ma-a-an :1
pa-a-un | ma-a-an :2 ma-aš | ma-a-an :2 m | ma-a-an :2
ma-aš | ma-a-an :3 ša-an | ma-a-an :2 n | ma-a-an :2
a-pa-aš | ma-a-an :3 a-an | ma-a-an :2 ma | ma-a-an :2
ša-an | ma-a-an :3 š-ša-an | ma-a-an :2 a-an | ma-a-an :2
a-an | ma-a-an :3 pa-a-un | ma-a-an :2 mu | ma-a-an :2
pa-ra-a | ma-a-an :3 a-aš | ma-a-an :3 m-mi | ma-a-an :2
an-da-an | ma-a-an :3 ma | ma-a-an :3 1en | ma-a-an :2
ša-ra-a | ma-a-an :3 a-ap-pa-an | ma-a-an :3 ka-a-ni | ma-a-an :2
da-a-ir | ma-a-an :3 a-pa-aš | ma-a-an :3 pa-a-un | ma-a-an :2
pa-a-ir | ma-a-an :3 a-at | ma-a-an :3 a-aš | ma-a-an :3
ka-a-ni | ma-a-an :3 š-ša-an-n | ma-a-an :3 d | ma-a-an :3
pé-ra-an | ma-a-an :3 pa-ra-a | ma-a-an :3 U | ma-a-an :3
In the first column, the separators form an integral part of the token on the
entry. Under such conditions, Levenshtein returns as zero edits only the exact
match ma-a-an, while the counts ma-a-(a)n15 and ta-a-an are treated as equal.
The tokens indexed “3” are generally irrelevant. In the second column, the sep-
arators are omitted. The deletion of separators does not eliminate the false re-
sult in the second line. In the third column, the transliterated words are
automatically transcribed and as such enter the Levenshtein search. At the
end, they are converted back to their original form. Such a convention i mproves
the search results so that the two forms ma-a-an and ma-a-(a)n require zero
edits while ta-a-an requires one edit.
15 The form ma-a-(a)n is the result of transliteration of the enclitic: ma-a-na-aš.

In the following table, a Jaro-Winkler algorithm is used for a text with sepa-
rators. In the first column, the optimized algorithm is used. In the second, the
word prefix16 is given the scaling factor (i.e., weight) 0.2, while the standard
scaling factor is 0.1; and in the third, the prefix is given the highest possible
weight of 0.25. The alignments that get a score above 1.0, as seen in the third
column, are “illegal” and therefore the prefix weight must be adjusted in order
not to obtain such results.17 With higher prefix weight, the algorithm (falsely)
includes more forms as “perfect matches”, not only ku-iš and ku-i-(i)š, but also
ku-in, ku-it.
The following table shows similar results for a search run on a text without
separators:
Table 7.7 Jaro-Winkler algorithm (github), search pattern: ku-iš
(Including separators) (Including separators, (Including separators,

prefix 2.0) prefix 2.5)
------------------- ------------------ -------------------

ku-iš | ku-iš :1 ku-iš-ki | ku-iš :1 ku-iš-ki | ku-iš :1,03125
ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš ku-iš | ku-iš :1 ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš :1
:0,966666638851166
ku-iš-ki | ku-iš :0,9375 ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš ku-in | ku-iš :1
:0,98888885974884
ku-in | ku-iš ku-in | ku-iš ku-iš | ku-iš :1
:0,920000016689301 :0,973333358764648
ku-it | ku-iš ku-it | ku-iš ku-it | ku-iš :1
:0,920000016689301 :0,973333358764648
Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš
:0,804848492145538 :0,888484835624695 :0,930303037166595
Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš
:0,789999961853027 :0,813333332538605 :0,824999988079071
16 The notion prefix is used in the algorithm with a different meaning than is usual in lin-
guistics and is not concerned with word morphology: for higher values of the so-called
prefix, the algorithm gives more favourable ratings in case the strings match from the be-
ginning rather than from the end.
17 These false alignments are due to the weights of matching and transposing in the
algorithm.

140 Frantíková
Table 7.7 Jaro-Winkler algorithm (github), search pattern: ku-iš (cont.)
(Including separators) (Including separators, (Including separators,

u-uš | ku-iš u-uš | ku-iš u-uš | ku-iš

:0,783333361148834 :0,783333361148834 :0,783333361148834
IŠKUR-aš | ku-iš kat-ti | ku-iš kat-ti | ku-iš
:0,741666674613953 :0,759999990463257 :0,774999976158142
pa-iš | ku-iš IŠKUR-aš | ku-iš IŠKUR-aš | ku-iš
:0,733333349227905 :0,741666674613953 :0,741666674613953
kat-ti | ku-iš pa-iš | ku-iš pa-iš | ku-iš
:0,730000019073486 :0,733333349227905 :0,733333349227905
ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš
:0,711111128330231 :0,711111128330231 :0,711111128330231
Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš
:0,69523811340332 :0,69523811340332 :0,69523811340332
KUR | ku-iš KUR | ku-iš KUR | ku-iš
:0,688888907432556 :0,688888907432556 :0,688888907432556
ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš
:0,683333337306976 :0,683333337306976 :0,683333337306976
Table 7.8 Jaro-Winkler algorithm (github), search pattern: ku-iš
(Without separators) (Without separators, (Without separators,

----------------- --------------------- ---------------------

ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš :1 ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš :1 ku-iš-ki | ku-iš :1
ku-iš | ku-iš :1 ku-iš | ku-iš :1 ku-i-(i)š | ku-iš :1
ku-iš-ki | ku-iš ku-iš-ki | ku-iš ku-iš | ku-iš :1
:0,933333337306976 :0,977777779102325
ku-in | ku-iš ku-in | ku-iš ku-in | ku-iš
:0,883333325386047 :0,933333337306976 :0,958333313465118
ku-it | ku-iš ku-it | ku-iš ku-it | ku-iš
:0,883333325386047 :0,933333337306976 :0,958333313465118
KUR | ku-iš KUR | ku-iš KUR | ku-iš
:0,777777791023254 :0,833333313465118 :0,861111104488373

(Without separators) (Without separators, (Without separators,

Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš

:0,774999976158142 :0,824999988079071 :0,854166626930237
ki-iš-ha | ku-iš Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš Ka-ni-iš | ku-iš :0,8125
:0,774999976158142 :0,800000011920929
Ku-uš-ša-ra | ku-iš ki-iš-ha | ku-iš ki-iš-ha | ku-iš :0,8125
:0,766666650772095 :0,800000011920929
né-ku-uš | ku-iš :0,75 né-ku-uš | ku-iš :0,75 né-ku-uš | ku-iš :0,75
u-uš | ku-iš u-uš | ku-iš u-uš | ku-iš
:0,722222208976746 :0,722222208976746 :0,722222208976746
ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš ták-ki-iš-ta | ku-iš
:0,694444417953491 :0,694444417953491 :0,694444417953491
Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš Ku-uš-ša-ra-aš | ku-iš
:0,683333337306976 :0,683333337306976 :0,683333337306976
ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki | ku-iš
:0,674242436885834 :0,674242436885834 :0,674242436885834
pa-iš | ku-iš pa-iš | ku-iš pa-iš | ku-iš
:0,666666686534882 :0,666666686534882 :0,666666686534882
When executed on data without separators and prefix weight up to 2.0, the al-
gorithm does not return false results (i.e., listing ku-iš-ki as a best alignment for
ku-iš) and keeps a good alignment distance from tokens belonging to other
lexemes. Corresponding results would be obtained if the data were automati-
cally transcribed using the transcription rules conventional for Hittite.
Levenshtein with separators returns worse results for ku-iš (e.g. ku-i-(i)š and
ku-in get the same alignment of value 1) than without separators. We conclude
that both algorithms, the Levenshtein and Jaro-Winkler, yield quality results in
searches of a syllabically transliterated language, where the possibility of high-
er prefix weight must be tested for a specific language and may prove useful in
languages where morphological marking is mainly suffixed.
5.3 Logic of Smart Search

The query can be executed based on different kind of entries. See the following
examples of possible searched strings:

142 Frantíková
Table 7.9 Possibilities of query execution on the entry
Search string Result
KBo iii 22 Transcription of the text on the KBo iii 22 tablet

“a-as-su-us” Exact matches + suggested lexeme
āssu / assu Best approximated form → lexeme + alternatives
asu / su ditto
a-as-su-us e-es-ta Clauses with at least one lexeme, clauses with
both lexemes first
“a-as-su-us” AND e-es-ta Clauses with both exact match of the token and
the lexeme
good Best approximated translation in dictionary →
lexeme + alternatives
Figure 7.4 Search visualization
On the interface, the user should have the opportunity to type any desirable
request into an easy-to-operate entry (see Figure 7.4), as will be shown in the
following example of smart search.
The following picture (Figure 7.5) illustrates the process of the user’s activity
and the response of the software. Once the (inaccurate) form is entered into
the search line, the program provides results for the best approximated lex-
eme. Further, it suggests other lexemes and their respective forms. Simultane-
ously, it provides a list of token attestations of the best approximated lexeme.

Figure 7.5 Search and response process
6 Conclusion
Digitizing Hittite in order to enable advanced search functions is unquestion-

ably one of the most important tasks of Hittite studies today. The enormous re-
cent progress in corpus computation worldwide aids the field of study of ancient
languages by providing both the electronic tools as well as theoretical back-
ground in morphological standards and tagging. The crucial differences in digi-
tizing Hittite compared to digitizing modern languages lie in the way the texts
have been preserved to the present day. When dealing with a language without
speakers, we rely on the graphemic interpretation of the language, where the
script conventions and the motivation of scribal practices may blur the original
underlying structure. Therefore, it is very important to try to avoid interpreta-
tions on every level and strive to interpret the texts as objectively as possible.
Digitizing is just the first step to corpus usage. The effort to create accu-
rately digitized texts is hampered by different transliteration practices and
incompleteness of the original material. As for tokenizing, the specific issues
arise from tokenizing partly broken texts and from the occurrences of clitic
chains in the beginning of clauses, as is prototypical for Hittite. The chains
have to be parsed in a way so that the members can be automatically assigned
to the corresponding lemmata and the information on the use of the original
cuneiform signs is not lost. I suggest that in order to retain one layer of corpus
text, the clitics are not parsed within a cuneiform sign but rather between two
signs, with adjustments to the tokens later on. On the level of tagging, the

144 Frantíková
digital analysis adds information beyond mere transliteration, such as mor-

phological information, connection of the token to the dictionary entry (lem-
ma or hyperlemma), syntactic and textual information etc.
Compared to corpora for modern languages, one highly specific problem in
creating a Hittite digital corpus is the issue of search. The original orthography
operates on the basis of syllabic and vocalic signs, while the search algorithms
operate on basis of Latin-script graphemes. It is important to adjust the search
in a way that yields valid results. In this article, this issue is tackled only briefly
(§5.2), but it will be the subject of further research. The provisional conclusion
is that Latin-script-based algorithms are a more efficient search method than
cuneiform-based ones. Best suited for the Hittite text type are the edit distance
algorithm (Levenshtein) and Jaro-Winkler algorithm. The search executed
upon text without separators and with increased prefix weight yields more ac-
curate results than the search with separators and with standard value of the
scaling factor.
Acknowledgments
This contribution is part of the project Digitizing Hittite Corpus, No. 308315,
completed at the Faculty of Arts, Charles University, Prague in 2015–2016 and
supported by the Grant Agency of Charles University (GA UK). In addition,
I wish to thank Vladimír Petkevič (Institute of the Czech National Corpus) and
Ronald I. Kim (Institute of Comparative Linguistics) for their useful remarks
and corrections.
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Chapter 8
The Phonetics and Phonology of the Hittite Dental

Stops
Alwin Kloekhorst
Abstract
This article provides a comprehensive analysis of the phonetics and phonology of the
Hittite dental stops, based especially on a detailed treatment of the usage of the cunei-
form signs TA and DA in all positions in the word, and in all chronological stages of
Hittite.
Keywords
Hittite – phonology – phonetics – cuneiform script – Indo-European linguistics
1 Introduction
The cuneiform syllabary that was taken over by the Hittites from their North
Syrian neighbours possesses in its CV series separate signs to distinguish voice-
less from voiced stops, e.g. TA vs. DA, KA vs. GA, KI vs. GI, etc. Since in Hittite
the members of such sign pairs are sometimes used interchangeably (e.g., the
word for ‘they eat’ is spelled a-ta-an-zi as well as a-da-an-zi, the word for ‘he
opens’ is spelled ki-nu-uz-zi as well as gi-nu-uz-zi, etc.), it is generally stated in
the Hittitological literature that in spelling the choice between the signs for the
voiceless stop and the signs for the voiced stop is random, and that the use of a
specific sign in a given word has no bearing whatsoever on the phonology of
the stop it denotes (e.g. Melchert 1994: 13–14; Kimball 1999: 89–90; Hoffner and
Melchert 2008: 16; Patri 2009: 89), a view that I, too, adhered to in my etymo-
logical dictionary of Hittite (Kloekhorst 2008: 21).
In a series of recent articles (Kloekhorst 2010a, 2013, 2016) I have retracted
this view, however, arguing that in some periods of Hittite the signs for the
voiceless stops (TA, KA, KI, etc.) in some positions in the word do represent

148 Kloekhorst
phonologically different sounds from those represented by the signs for the
voiced stops (DA, GA, GI, etc.).
In the present paper I will provide a follow-up to these articles, presenting
all additional evidence regarding the pair TA vs. DA that I have gathered over
the last years, which results in a detailed analysis of the phonetics and phonol-
ogy of the Hittite dental stops in all positions in the word throughout the entire
Hittite period.
2 Dental Stops in Intervocalic Position: The OH Situation
In Kloekhorst 2013, an article that dealt with the phonetic difference between
the signs TA and DA in Old Hittite, I argued that in Old Hittite we have to dis-
tinguish three dental stops in intervocalic position, namely:
1. A geminate spelled stop that is always written with the sign TA,
(-)Vt-ta(-), and that etymologically corresponds to PIE *t. It was argued
that this consonant phonetically represents a voiceless long stop [tː],
which in this article will be called fortis.
2. A geminate spelled stop that is written both with the sign TA and with
the sign DA, (-)Vt-ta(-) and (-)Vd-da(-), and that etymologically corre-
sponds to the PIE cluster *TH. It was argued that this consonant phoneti-
cally represents a voiceless long postglottalized stop [tːʔ], which in this
article will be called ejective.
3. A single spelled stop that is written both with the sign TA and the sign
DA, °V-ta(-) and °V-da(-), and that etymologically corresponds to PIE *d
and *dh. It was argued that this consonant phonetically represents a
voiced short stop [d], which in this article will be called lenis.
Although the lenis stop is voiced in this position, it was argued that its voice is
only allophonic and that the basic distinction between the fortis and the lenis
stop is length instead of voice.1 We can therefore set up the following three
dental phonemes for Old Hittite:
1 This was argued on the basis of the presence in Hittite of clusters consisting of a lenis and a
fortis stop, like the one in e-ku-ut-ta ‘he drank’ /ʔékwtːa/. If the basic distinction between the
lenis and the fortis stops were voice, we would expect to find voice assimilation in such clus-
ters, yielding either two fortis stops, **e-ek-ku-ut-ta, or two lenis stops, **e-ku-ta (cf. Kloek-
horst 2008: 2; 2016: 1–2). Since this did not happen, the distinction between the two kinds of
stops apparently was not voice. This argument is corroborated by the fact that, as we will see
below, after obstruents the lenis dental stop is realized as a short voiceless stop [t], whereas
the fortis dental stop is in that position realized as a long voiceless stop [tː]. The only

The Phonetics and Phonology of the Hittite Dental Stops 149
fortis /tː/
ejective /tːʔ/
lenis /t/
In the article mentioned, only the Old Hittite situation was investigated, but
not the situation in Middle and New Hittite. I will therefore do so here.
3 Dental Stops in Intervocalic Position: the MH and NH Situation
There can be no doubt that of the three dental phonemes that have to be dis-
tinguished for Old Hittite, at least the fortis and lenis stops must have remained
distinct phonemes also after the OH period: in MH and NH texts, too, they are
consistently distinguished in spelling, namely by geminate vs. single spelling,
respectively (= Sturtevant’s Law). The status of the ejective stop in Middle and
New Hittite is less clear, however.
The postulation of an intervocalic ejective stop /tːʔ/ in Old Hittite was based
on the existence of four words that in OS texts show geminate spelling with
the sign DA, (-)Vd-da(-), which correlates with the etymological presence of a
cluster of a dental stop + laryngeal in their reconstructed preform: paddaḫḫi
‘I dig’ < *bhodhh2-, paddar / paddan- ‘basket’ < *péth2-r / *p(e)th2-én-, piddāi ‘he
flees’ < *pth1/2-ói-ei, and uddār ‘words’ < *uth2-ṓr. They thus contrast with the
Old Hittite words that show consistent geminate spelling with the sign TA,
which always correlates with the etymological presence of a *t in their pre-
form. Since in Akkadian a spelling (-)Vd-da(-) can also be read as (-)Vṭ-ṭa(-), i.e.
as containing a geminate emphatic stop, which phonetically must have been a
long postglottalized stop [tːʔ],2 it was argued that in Hittite, too, the spelling
(-)Vd-da(-) in these four words represents the presence of a long ejective stop
/tːʔ/, which can then be regarded as the regular outcome of an intervocalic
cluster *-TH-.3
The first step required to determine to what extent the ejective stop is still a
separate phoneme in MH and NH times is to investigate the spelling of these
four words in MS and NS texts: how often do they show the sign TA or the sign
DA?
distinction between the two is length, which therefore can be regarded to have been the ba-
sic distinction between the two stops.
2 Kouwenberg 2003: 81–82.
3 Kloekhorst 2013: 127–131.

150 Kloekhorst
padd(a)-i ‘to dig’:4 In OS texts, we only find the 1sg.pres.act. form pád-da-
aḫ-ḫi, but in MS and NS texts also other relevant forms are attested. In
MS texts, we find no forms spelled with TA, but one form spelled with DA
(3pl.pres.act. pád-da-a-an-zi (1x)). The ratio of forms spelled with the sign
TA to forms spelled with the sign DA is thus 0 : 1 = 0%. In NS texts, we find
no forms spelled with TA, but 31 forms spelled with DA (1sg.pres.act. pád-
da-aḫ-ḫi (5x), 3sg.pres.act. pád-da-a-i (8x), pád-da-i (5x), 3pl.pres.act.
pád-da-an-zi (3x), pád-da-a-an-zi (5x), 1sg.pret.act. pád-da-aḫ-ḫu-un (1x),
3sg.pret.act. pád-d[a-…] (1x), 3sg.pres.mid. pád-da-a-ri (1x), part. pád-da-
an-t° (2x)). The ratio of forms spelled with the sign TA to forms spelled
with the sign DA is thus 0 : 31 = 0%. If we combine the MH and NH num-
bers, we arrive at 0 : 32 = 0%.
paddar / paddan- ‘basket’: In OS texts, we find five attestations spelled

with DA (nom.-acc.sg. pád-da-r° (1x), dat.-loc.sg. pád-da-ni (1x), pád-da-
a-ni (1x), [p]ád-da-ni-i (1x), pád-da[-ni] (1x)), and four attestations with
TA (nom.-acc.sg. pát-ta-ar (2x), instr. pát-ta-ni-it (2x)).5 In MS texts, we
find no forms spelled with TA, but five forms spelled with DA (dat.-loc.sg.
pád-da-ni (5x)),6 yielding a ratio of 0 : 5 = 0%. In NS texts, we find three
forms spelled with TA (dat.-loc.sg. pát-ta-a-ni (1x), instr. pát-ta-ni-it (2x))
and 27 spelled with DA (dat.-loc.sg. pád-da-ni-i (10x), pád-da-a-ni (3x),
pád-da-ni (11x), instr. pád-da-ni-it (1x), abl.(?) pád-da-n[a-az] (1x), uncl.
pád-da-na-aš (1x)),7 yielding a ratio of 3 : 27 = 10%. If we combine the MH
and NH numbers, we arrive at 3 : 32 = 8,6%.
piddai-i ‘to flee’:8 In OS texts, we find two attestations of this verb spelled
with DA (3sg.pres.act. píd-da-a-i (2x)), and none spelled with TA. In MS
texts, we find no forms spelled with TA, and seven forms spelled with DA
(3sg.pres.act. píd-da-a-i (2x), píd-da-i (1x), 3sg.pret.act. [p]íd-da-iš (1x),
píd-da-a-it (1x), 2sg.imp.act. píd-da-a-i (2x)), yielding a ratio of 0 : 7 = 0%.
In NS texts, we find six forms spelled with TA (3sg.pres.act. pí-it-t[a-i]
(1x), pít-ta-a-iz-zi (2x), 3pl.pret.act. pít-ta-a-er (2x), imperf. pít-ta-iš-k°
(1x)) and thirty forms with DA (3sg.pres.act. píd-da-a-i (1x), píd-da-a-iz-zi
(3x), 1pl.pres.act. píd-da-a-u-e-ni (1x), 3pl.pres.act. píd-da-a-an-zi (2x),
4 All numbers are based on the attestations of this verb as gathered in CHD P: 235–236.
5 Cf. Kloekhorst 2013: 127.
6 See Kloekhorst 2014: 358 for attestations.
7 See CHD P: 241 for attestations (note that the ‘passim’ mentioned for KUB 27.67 refers to ii
19, iii 13, 18, 24; and that GIpád-da-a-ni as cited for KUB 9.6 i 3 is in fact GIpát-ta-a-ni).
8 Numbers based on the attestations as gathered in CHD P: 352–353.

píd-da-an-zi (1x), 2sg.pret.act. píd-da-it-ti (1x), 3sg.pret.act. píd-da-a-iš

(6x), píd-da-a-it (2x), pí[d-d]a-it (1x), 3pl.pret.act. píd-da-a-er (1x),
2sg.imp.act. píd-da-i (1x), píd-da-a-i (2x), 2pl.imp.act. píd-da-at-ten
(1x), píd-da-a-at-tén (1x), imperf. píd-da-a-eš-k° (1x), píd-da-a-iš-k° (1x),
píd-da-iš-k° (2x), píd-da-eš-k° (2x)), yielding a ratio of 6 : 30 = 16,7%. If we
combine the MH and NH numbers, we arrive at 6 : 37 = 13,9%.
uddar / uddan- ‘word’: The only relevant form of this word attested in OS
texts is the nom.-acc.pl. form, which was attested once as ut-ta-a-ar, but
once as ud-d[a?-]a?-ar as well.9 In MS and NS texts, we also find other
forms of this word that are spelled either with TA or with DA. In MS texts,
this word is attested four times with the sign TA (gen.sg. ut-ta-na-a-aš
(1x), nom.-acc.pl. ut-ta-a-ar (2x), erg.pl. ut-ta-na-a-an-te-eš (1x)), and 58
times with the sign DA (gen.sg. ud-da-na-a-aš (2x), ud-da-na-aš (1x), dat.-
loc.sg. ud-da-ni-i (18x), ud-da-ni (1x), abl. ud-da-na-a-az (1x), ud-da-na-az
(4x), ud-da-na-za (1x), nom.-acc.pl. ud-da-a-ar (29x), erg.sg. ud-da-na-an-
za (1x)),10 yielding a ratio of 4 : 58 = 6,5%. In NS texts, we find seven times
a spelling with TA (gen.sg. ut-ta-na-aš (2x), nom.-acc.pl. ut-ta-a-ar (5x))
and 135 times with DA (gen.sg. ud-da-na-aš (2x), dat.-loc.sg. ud-da-ni-i
(20x), ud-da-ni (5x), ud-da-a-ni-i (3x), erg.sg. ud-da-na-an-za (4x), abl. ud-
da-na-az (4x), nom.-acc.pl. ud-da-a-ar (89x), ud-da-ar (4x), erg.pl.
ud-da-na-a-an-te-eš (1x), [u]d-da-na-an-te-eš (1x)),11 yielding a ratio of 7 :
135 = 4,9%. If we combine the MH and NH numbers, we arrive at 11 : 193 =
5,4%.
We see that in MS and NS texts in all four words the number of forms spelled
with the sign DA is much larger than the number of forms spelled with TA.
The next step is to answer this same question for the words that in OS texts
are consistently spelled with the sign TA, and that therefore must contain a
(non-ejective) fortis stop /tː/: how are these spelled in MS and NS texts? Since
it would be too time-consuming to investigate all relevant words, I have se-
lected a few representative examples that are attested often enough to give
statistically relevant numbers.

10 For attestations, cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 319 n. 1234 (gen.sg.), 454 (dat.-loc.sg.), 299 (erg.sg.),
320 (abl.), 240 n. 869 (nom.-acc.pl.), 299 (erg.pl.).
11 For attestations, cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 319 n. 1235 (gen.sg.), 454 (dat.-loc.sg.), 299 (erg.sg.),
320 (abl.), 241 n. 870 (nom.-acc.pl.), 299 (erg.pl.).

152 Kloekhorst
katta ‘down’ < *ḱmto: In OS texts, this word is consistently spelled kat-ta
(33x), with the sign TA, and never with the sign DA. Also in MS and NS
texts it is always spelled kat-ta (ca. 700 times in my files) and never
**kad-da. The ratio of spellings with the sign TA to spellings with the sign
DA is therefore 100%.
kitta(ri) ‘he lies’ < *ḱéito(ri): This word is in OS texts consistently spelled
ki-it-ta (23x),12 with the sign TA, and never with the sign DA. Also in MS
and NS texts it is in the overwhelming majority of cases spelled ki-it-ta(-
ri) (ca. 200 times in my files), with the sign TA. Only three times do we
find ki-id-da(-ri).13 The ratio of spellings with the sign TA to spellings
with the sign DA is thus approximately 200 : 3 = 98,5%.
lukkatta ‘it dawns’ < *lukoto:14 This word is in OS texts in all its four attes-
tations spelled with the sign TA, and not with the sign DA.15 Also in MS
and NS texts it is always (more than 20 times) spelled with the sign TA
(lu-uk-kat-ta, lu-ug-ga-at-ta, lu-kat-ta), and never with the sign DA. The
ratio of forms spelled with TA to the forms spelled with DA is thus 100%.
nutta ‘and to you’ < *nu=tuo: This word is in OS texts attested once as nu-
ut-ta,16 spelled with the sign TA. In my files of MS and NS texts, it occurs
ca. 230 times as nu-ut-ta, with the sign TA, and once as nu-ud-da (KUB
33.70 iii 16 (OH/NS)), with the sign DA. The ratio of forms spelled with
TA to forms spelled with DA is thus 230 : 1 = 99,6%.
In all these words, the ratios of the number of forms spelled with the sign TA to
the number of forms spelled with the sign DA (100%, 98,5%, 100%, and
99.6%, respectively) are totally opposite to the ratios of TA to DA in the words
padd(a)-i, paddar / paddan-, piddai-i and uddar / uddan-, which were 0%,
6,7%, 13,9%, and 5,4%, respectively. This massive difference in spelling be-
tween these two groups of words proves that also in MH and NH times the
ejective dental stop /tːʔ/ was still phonemically distinct from the fortis dental
stop /tː/.
12 Cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 419 n. 1623 for attestations.

13 ki-id-da (KBo 3.21 ii 9 (MH/MS)), ki-id-da-ri (KUB 30.15 obv. 6, 13 (OH/LNS)).
14 Cf. CHD L-N: 75 for attestations.
15 lu-ug-ga-at-ta (StBoT 25.4 iv 21 (OS)), lu-uk-kat-ta (StBoT 25.3 ii 30, iv 7 (OS)), [(lu-uk-kat-
t)]a (StBoT 12+ i 31 (OS)).
16 nu-ut-ta (KUB 43.27 i 8 (OS)).

This finding has some interesting consequences for several other words and
morphemes.
apadda(n) ‘there, thither’: This word, which is unattested in OS texts, is in

MS and NS texts spelled as follows:17 eleven times we find a spelling with
the sign TA (a-pa-at-ta (3x), a-pa-a-at-ta (6x), a-pát-ta-an (2x)), and 92
times a spelling with the sign DA (a-pád-da (53x), a-pád-da-an (38x), a-
pa-da-an (1x)).18 The ratio of spellings with TA to spellings with DA is
thus 11 : 92 = 10,7%, which matches the ratios of padd(a)-i, etc. I therefore
conclude that this word must have contained an ejective stop as well:
/ʔapatːʔa(n)/. Melchert (2008: 369–370) reconstructed this form as end�-
ing in *-éd-h2o, in which *-h2o would be the preform of the allative ending
that is attached to the stem *h1obhéd- as visible in dat.-loc.sg. apedani, etc.
According to Melchert, the short a of the medial syllable of apadda re-
flects an earlier *e that has been colored to a because it stood before a
cluster *-dh2-. This idea is now confirmed by the spellings with DA, which
point to the presence of the ejective stop /tːʔ/ and forms an indepen-
dent argument in favor of a reconstruction with a cluster *-TH-. It should
be noted, however, that since I rather reconstruct the all.sg. ending as
*-o, and not as *-h2o,19 I cannot accept all details of Melchert’s etymology.
To my mind, we should rather interpret apadda as reflecting *h1obhé
dhh2e, a form that consists of the pronominal oblique stem *h1obhé- (cf.
gen.sg. apel ‘of his’, etc.) to which the locatival element *-dhh2e is attached
that is known from Gr. ἔνθα ‘there’ and Skt. ihá ‘here’, and which may also
be present in Hitt. anda ‘into’ < *h1n-dhh2e.20
natta ‘not’: This word is in OS, MS and NS texts consistently spelled na-
at-ta (more than 150 times in my files), with the sign TA, and never **na-
ad-da.21 We should therefore analyze it as /natːa/, with a fortis, and not an
ejective stop. The etymology of this word is not fully clear. It is obviously
related to *ne ‘not’ as attested in many IE languages, but details regarding
its latter part are unclear. Melchert (2008: 372) proposes to reconstruct
*né-th2oh1, a form that structurally would be the same as Skt. táthā ‘thus’
17 Counts based on the attestations listed in HW2 A: 168–170.

18 Twice we find the spelling a-pát-tén, but its interpretation is unclear.
20 Cf. Kloekhorst 2013: 139 for this etymology of anda.
21 Cf. CHD L-N: 409.

154 Kloekhorst
and káthā ‘how’, and in which the e would be colored to a because of the
following *-TH- cluster (just as in apadda < *h1obhedhh2e). Although espe-
cially this latter argument is attractive (it is otherwise difficult to account
for the Hitt. a in natta vis-à-vis the *e found in the *ne as reflected in all
other IE languages, cf. Melchert 2008: 371), I would rather expect that a
preform *néth2oh1 should have yielded Hitt. **/nátːʔa/, spelled **na-ad-
da. Melchert’s etymology can therefore hardly be correct. I am unable,
however, to offer an alternative one.
-tta (2sg.pret.act. ending of the ḫi-conj.): This ending is generally con-

nected with the 2sg. perfect ending as found in Sanskrit (-tha) and Greek
(-θα) and that is reconstructed as *-th2e. On the basis of the foregoing, we
would expect this ending in postvocalic position to have yielded Hitt.
/-tːʔa/, which then should be spelled …-Vd-da. Yet this is not the case. Al-
though it is unattested in OS texts, in MS and NS texts this ending is in
postvocalic position always spelled …-Vt-ta (ḫal-za-it-ta (OH/NS) ‘you
screamed’, na-it-ta (OH/MS) ‘you turned’, pa-it-ta (OH/MS) ‘you gave’,
da-a-at-ta (MH/MS) ‘you took’, etc.), which rather points to a phonologi-
cal shape /-tːa/, with a fortis, non-ejective /tː/.
As we will see below, there are indications that although PIE *-TH- did
in Hittite develop into an ejective stop /tːʔ/ in postvocalic position (as
well as after n and in word-initial position), it yielded a non-ejective fortis
stop /tː/ when preceded by an obstruent, *r, or *l. This means that the 2sg.
pret.act. ending of the ḫi-conjugation would originally have had two al-
lomorphs, namely postvocalic and postnasal /-tːʔa/ vs. /-tːa/ in other posi-
tions. It seems quite possible to me that in such a situation one of the
variants ousted the other, and the spelling …-Vt-ta clearly indicates that in
this case it is the ending /-tːa/ that has become the productive one.
Support in favor of this theory may come from the spelling of the cor-
responding 2sg.pres.act. ending. Whereas the normal spelling of this end-
ing in postvocalic position is …-Vt-ti, we do find in OS texts two forms
with the spelling …-Vd-di: pé-e-da-ad-d[i] (KUB 33.59 ii 2 (OS)) and ú-da-
ad-di (KUB 33.59 iii 3 (OS)). Although not all details regarding the pho-
netic difference between the signs TI and DI have been clarified, it seems
attractive to assume that these two forms spell the original postvocalic
ending /-tːʔi/ (< *-th2e+i), which later on was replaced by the postconso-
nantal variant /-tːi/, spelled …-Vt-ti.
We may conclude that in intervocalic position the phonemic three-way dis-

tinction between fortis /tː/, ejective /tːʔ/ and lenis /t/ (phonetically realized as

[tː], [tːʔ], and [d], respectively) was retained as such throughout the history of
Hittite.22
4 Dental Stops after n: the OH Situation
In Kloekhorst 2013, I also treated the spelling in Old Hittite texts of dental stops
after n. It turned out that for this position we have to distinguish three different
stops as well, namely:
1. A stop that is consistently spelled with the sign TA, °n-ta(-), and that
therefore was interpreted as a voiceless stop [t]. Etymologically, the clus-
ter [nt] corresponds to PIE *nd.
2. A stop that is consistently spelled with the sign DA, °n-da(-), and that
therefore was interpreted as a postglottalized stop [tʔ]. Etymologically,
the cluster [ntʔ] corresponds to PIE *nTH.
3. A stop that is spelled both with the sign TA and with the sign DA, °n-ta(-)
and °n-da(-), and that was interpreted as a voiced stop [d]. Etymologi-
cally, the cluster [nd] corresponds to PIE *nt and *ndh.
22 There are two words that do not fit the pattern seen thus far because they show a consid-
erable number of spellings both with (-)Vt-ta(-) and with (-)Vd-da(-). The verb ḫatt-a(ri),
ḫazzii̯e/a-zi ‘to make a hole, to pierce, to prick’ shows, beside spellings with the sign TA
(ḫa-at-ta(-…), 54 attestations in my files), also quite a few spellings with the sign DA (3sg.
pres.mid. ḫa-ad-da(-ri), 3pl.pres.act. ḫa-ad-da-an-zi, ptc. ḫa-ad-da-an-t°, etc., 18 attesta-
tions in my files). Its ratio of TA vs. DA spellings, namely 54 : 18 = 75%, is too low to classify
this verb as belonging to the words containing the phoneme /tː/, but also much too high
to belong to the group containing /tːʔ/. Interestingly, the DA-spellings all come from NS
texts, at which period the active stem of this verb, which originally was ḫazzii̯e/a-zi, has
been reshaped after the tarn(a)-class to inflect ḫatta-i / ḫatt- (e.g. 3sg.pres.mid. ḫa-at-
ta(-a)-i, ḫa-ad-da(-a)-i). It therefore seems quite possible to me that the original /tː/ of the
verbal root /hatː-/ has been replaced by /tːʔ/ by analogy with the verb padda-i / padd- ‘to
dig’ /patːʔ(a)-/, which shows the same tarna-class inflection and is furthermore semanti-
cally close (cf. also the derivatives ḫatteššar ‘hole, pit’ and patteššar ‘pit, hole in the
ground’). The second example, the noun atta- (c.) ‘father’, is spelled both at-ta(-) (ca. 70%
of its attestations) and ad-da(-) (ca. 30% of its attestations) and thus does not fit the num-
bers belonging to the phonemes /tː/ and /tːʔ/ either. Since this noun is clearly a word origi-
nating from childrens’ language, we may be allowed to assume that it contains a unique
sound, namely a long voiced stop /dː/. As Ron Kim reminds me, this may be compared to
the fact that Goth. atta ‘father’ shows a geminate -tt- that otherwise is very rare in Gothic:
it is only found at morpheme boundaries, e.g. at-tiuhan ‘pull towards, bring’, and in the
noun skatts ‘money’, which is of unknown origin. Likewise HLuw. tati- ‘father’, which is
the only word in this language consistently spelled with word-initial <tá>, which probably
indicates the presence of a unique sound (Xander Vertegaal, p.c.).

156 Kloekhorst
I did not discuss the question, however, how these postnasal stops correlate
with the intervocalic stops. In other words: what is the phonemic status of
these stops that are found after n? It seems obvious to me that the three postna-
sal stops can be equated with the three intervocalic stops in the following way:
1. The postnasal voiceless stop [t] is to be equated with the intervocalic for-
tis stop /tː/.
2. The postnasal postglottalized stop [tʔ] is to be equated with the intervo-
calic ejective stop /tːʔ/.
3. The postnasal voiced stop [d] is to be equated with the intervocalic lenis
stop /t/.
In other words, the phonemic length contrast between, on the one hand, the
fortis and ejective stops and, on the other, the lenis stop is in postnasal position
phonetically realized as a voice contrast:
1. /ntː/ is realized as [nt].
2. /ntːʔ/ is realized as [ntʔ].
3. /nt/ is realized as [nd].
An interesting outcome of this equation is the fact that although in intervo-
calic position PIE *d and *dh merge (into the lenis stop /t/) and remain distinct
from PIE *t (which yielded the fortis stop /tː/), after *n a merger took place
between PIE *t and *dh (which yielded lenis /nt/ = [nd]), whereas PIE *d re-
mained distinct (as fortis /ntː/ = [nt]). This is in my opinion directly linked to
the fact that the pre-Proto-Anatolian correspondents of PIE *t, *d and *dh were
*/tː/, */ʔt/ and */t/, respectively.23 In intervocalic position the preglottalic fea-
ture of */ʔt/ was reinterpreted as a separate phoneme, */ʔ/ (which was subse-
quently lost with compensatory lengthening of the preceding vowel), causing
a merger of */ʔt/ and */t/ into Hittite /t/, which contrasted with /tː/. However,
after *n the length of */tː/ was lost, causing it to merge with */t/ into */nt/,
which through voice assimilation yielded [nd]. Moreover, */ʔt/ remained dis-
tinct because when also in this position its preglottalic feature was reinter-
preted as a separate phoneme, */nʔt/ > */nʔt/, this glottal stop blocked any
voice assimilation, causing */nʔt/ to develop into [nt]. In the case of *nTH, we
have to assume that, just as in intervocalic position, the laryngeal caused a
preceding stop to lengthen,24 which therefore was not subject to voice assimi-
lation either. We can set up the following chronology in order to explain all the
facts:
23 Cf. Kloekhorst 2012: 258–259; 2014: 230–235, 405–414, 574–583; and 2016 for the reconstruc-
tion of preglottalized voiceless short stops (/ʔp/, /ʔt/, etc.) as the pre-Proto-Anatolian cor-
respondents of the PIE mediae (*b, *d, etc.).
24 Cf. Kloekhorst 2013: 130–131.

Table 1 Development of PIE clusters of *n + dental (+ laryngeal)
(1) (2) (3)
PIE *nt ~ pre-PAnat. */ntː/ > */nt/ > */nt/ > [nd] = /nt/
PIE *ndh ~ pre-PAnat. */nt/ > */nt/ > */nt/ > [nd] = /nt/
PIE *nd ~ pre-PAnat. */nʔt/ > */nʔt/ > */nʔt/ > [nt] = /ntː/
PIE *ntH ~ pre-PAnat. */ntːʔ/ > */ntʔ/ > */ntːʔ/ > [ntʔ] = /ntːʔ/
PIE *ndhH ~ pre-PAnat. */ntʔ/ > */ntʔ/ > */ntːʔ/ > [ntʔ] = /ntːʔ/
PIE *ndH ~ pre-PAnat. */nʔtʔ/ > */nʔtʔ/ > */nʔtːʔ/ > [ntʔ] = /ntːʔ/
1. Loss of consonantal length after *n, causing the merger of */tː/ and */t/
into */t/.
2. Lengthening of a short consonant by a following laryngeal, causing the
shift of */tʔ/ to */tːʔ/, and reinterpretation of the preglottalic feature of
*/ʔt/ as */ʔ/.
3. Voice assimilation of */nt/ to [nd], but not of */ntː/. The presence of a
*/ʔ/ between */n/ and */t/ blocks the assimilation. Subsequent loss of
interconsonantal */ʔ/, and a reinterpretation of the cluster */tːʔ/ as a
postglottalized stop /tːʔ/.
In Kloekhorst 2013, I only treated the Old Hittite situation regarding dental
stops in postnasal position, not that of Middle and New Hittite, which I will do
here.
5 Dental Stops after n: the MH and NH Situation
First, I will treat the fate of the ejective stop. We have seen above that in OS
texts the ejective stop /tːʔ/, which after n is phonetically realized as [tʔ], was
indicated in spelling by the consistent use of the sign DA, e.g. in an-da(-an)
‘into; inside’. If we investigate the spelling of this word in MS and NS texts, we
find more than 2400 attestations spelled an-da(-an), with the sign DA, and
only two attestations with the sign TA, namely an-ta? (KBo 20.10 i 4 (OH/OS or
MS)) and an-tạ-an (KUB 20.76 iv 8 (OH/NS)) (note that in both cases the sign
TA is either broken or questionable). It is therefore justified to say that also in
the post-OH period anda(n) is consistently spelled with the sign DA. To my
mind, this indicates that it has retained its ejective stop as a phonemic entity:
/əntːʔa(n)/.

158 Kloekhorst
The presence of a phonemic fortis stop, /tː/, which after n is phonetically real-
ized as [t], was based on the consistent spelling in OS texts of the form
ši-pa-an-ta-an-zi ‘they libate’ with the sign TA, which was supported by the
consistent spelling of its corresponding 3sg. form ši-pa(-a)-an-ti / iš-pa(-a)-an-
ti ‘he libates’ with the sign TI, and its derivative iš-pa-an-tu-uz-zi- ‘libation
vessel’ with the sign TU. These words were therefore interpreted as [sipːəntánt͡si]
= /sipːəntːántsːi/, [sipːā́nti] = /sipːā́ntːi/, [ɨspā́nti] = /ɨspːā́ntːi/, and [ɨspəntut͡si-]
= /ɨspːəntːutsːi-/, respectively. They thus contrast with words that in OS texts
are spelled both with the sign TA and with the sign DA (or with TI as well as
DI, or TU as well as DU), which rather points to the presence of a lenis stop,
/t/, which after n was realized as a voiced stop, [d], e.g. e-ša-an-ta, e-ša-an-da
‘they sit down’ [ʔḗsənda] = /ʔḗsənta/, a-ša-an-tu, a-ša-an-du ‘they must be’
[əsándu] = /əsántu/.
If we now look at the spelling of the form for ‘they libate’ in MS and NS
texts, we find that there it is spelled both with TA and with DA, however:
ši(-ip)-pa-an-ta-an-zi25 as well as ši(-ip)-pa-an-da-an-zi.26 Likewise the form
for ‘libation vessel’, which in MS and NS texts is spelled iš-pa-an-tu-uz-zi-27 as
well as iš-pa-an-du-uz-zi-.28 They thus are in the post-OH period spelled the
same way as words that contain a lenis /t/. We must therefore assume that
their OH /tː/, which was realized as a voiceless [t], has in the post-OH period
changed to /t/, which was realized as [d], probably due to voice assimilation:
OH [sipːəntánt͡si] = /sipːəntːántsːi/ > MH/NS [sipːəndánt͡si] = /sipːəntántsːi/
and OH [ɨspəntut͡si-] = /ɨspːəntːutsːi-/ > MH/NH [ɨspəndut͡si-] =
/ɨspːəntutsːi-/.29
This does not mean, however, that in the post-OH period after n the con-
trast between fortis and lenis stops has been given up. Consider the word kuen
ta ‘he killed’. Etymologically, this form is generally reconstructed as *gwhén-to,
in which the ending is the 3sg.mid. ending *-to,30 which has replaced the origi-
nal 3sg.pret.act. ending *-t because the latter was regularly lost in postconso-
nantal position. On the basis of what we have seen above, we would expect the
sequence *-nt-, through a pre-PAnat. */-ntː-/, to have developed into OH
[-nd-] = /-nt-/, with a lenis stop /t/. Yet, if we look at the spelling of the word
25 Attested 9 times in my files of MS and NS texts.

26 Attested ca. 60 times in my files of MS and NS texts.
29 Note that the 3sg.pres.act. form of ‘to libate’ is also in MS and NS texts consistently spelled
with the sign TI: ši-pa-an-ti, ši-ip-pa-an-ti, BAL-an-ti, never *-an-di. The rationale behind
this fact is not yet clear to me, and needs further investigation.
30 Kloekhorst 2008: 800–801.

kuenta in MS and NS texts,31 we find that it is always (32 times) spelled with
the sign TA (26x ku-en-ta, 5x ku-e-en-ta, 1x ku-in-ta), and never with the sign
DA. This spelling thus rather points to the presence of a voiceless, i.e. fortis
stop, [t] = /tː/: [kwénta] = /kwéntːa/.
Does this mean that our view of the development of the cluster *-nt- is in-
correct? To my mind, this is not the case. As we will see below, after all other
consonants other than *n, PIE *t regularly develops into a fortis stop. This
means that in all verbs in which the stem ends in a consonant other than *n,
the verbal ending *-to regularly developed into /-t:a/ with a fortis /tː/, e.g.
*h1égwh-to > Hitt. e-ku-ut-ta ‘he drank’ /ʔékwtːa/. Only after an *n would we ex-
pect the ending to have developed into /-ta/, with a lenis /t/ (which after n was
realized as a voiced stop, [-da]). It seems unproblematic to me to assume that
this allomorphy between /-tːa/ and /-ta/ was levelled out in favor of the fortis
variant. Thus, when after the OH period the sequence /ntː/ = [nt] underwent
voice assimilation to /nt/ = [nd], the fortis character of the dental stop of the
ending -tta was again restored, resulting in ku(-e)-en-ta [kwénta] = /kwéntːa/,
not **[kwénda] = **/kwénta/.
6 Dental Stops after Obstruents
Although it was stated in Kloekhorst 2013: 131 that in Old Hittite texts after the
consonants ḫ, k, p, and š only the sign TA is found, and never DA, no conclu-
sion was attached to this fact. I will therefore treat this fact in more detail here.
The absence of DA after obstruents is not limited to OS texts; also in MS and
NS texts we virtually only find the sign TA following ḫ, k, p, and š.32 To my
mind, this virtual complete absence of spellings with the sign DA after obstru-
ents indicates that the dental stops that occur in this position were phoneti-
cally neither ejective nor voiced.
The absence of ejectives in this position is interesting, since there are cer-
tainly Hittite words that in their preform contain a cluster of obstruent + *TH,
cf. e.g. ḫaštai- ‘bone’ < *h2/3ésth1oi-,33 or the 2sg.pret.act. ending -tta as treated
31 It is unattested in OS texts.
32 I have counted in my files 244x °ḫ-ta(-) vs. 3x °ḫ-da(-); 190x °k-ta(-) vs. 2x °k-da(-); 144x
°p-ta(-) vs. 7x °p-da(-) (4 of which occur in a single text, namely KBo 18.54); and 3013x °š-
ta(-) vs. 17x °š-da(-). We see that the number of spellings with the sign DA is negligeable
when compared to the number of spellings with the sign TA. Moreover, the spellings with
DA do not seem to occur in any systematic pattern.
33 Although PIE *t in Hittite normally undergoes assibilation to z when followed by *i, this
is not the case in the oblique cases of ‘bone’ (e.g. gen.sg. ḫaštii̯aš), which have retained

160 Kloekhorst
above. This means that in such sequences either the laryngeal was lost without
causing glottalization (*-CTHV- > */-CtːʔV(-)/ > Hitt. /-CtːV(-)/), or the laryn-
geal at first did cause glottalization (*-CTHV- > */-CtːʔV(-)/ > pre-Hitt.
*/-CtːʔV(-)/), after which the glottalization was lost, yielding Hitt. /-CtːV(-)/.
The latter scenario effectively entails that after obstruents, original ejectives
have in pre-Hittite times merged with the fortis stops.
The absence of voiced stops could at first sight be interpreted as a sign that
in this position original fortis and lenis stops have merged into a single stop,
which is realized as voiceless. Yet there are indications that we have to distin-
guish two types of stops in this position.
The first type of stop is found in words that show spelling alternations like
the one between e-uk-ta and e-ku-ut-ta ‘he drank’, and between li-in-ik-ta and
li-in-kat-ta ‘he swore’. In these words, postconsonantal spelling with the sign
TA, °C-ta(-), alternates with geminate spelling in graphic intervocalic position,
(-)Vt-ta(-). This clearly shows that the dental stop in these words was a long
voiceless stop, [ʔékwtːa] and [línktːa], and we may therefore interpret it as a
fortis stop: /ʔékwtːa/ and /línktːa/. Since in these cases the dental stop etymo-
logically goes back to PIE *t (*h1égwhto, *h1lénǵhto), it shows that in such clus-
ters fortis stops were retained as such.
The second type of stop is found in the word a-ku-ta-al-l° ‘container of
water’,34 where we find a dental stop that is spelled single. Since it is likely that
the preceding -ku- represents a labiovelar (because aku- can then be derived
from the verbal stem *h1gwh- ‘to drink’), we can assume that, although the t is in
graphic intervocalic position, it is in fact postconsonantal. The spelling with
the sign TA indicates that it is voiceless, whereas the single spelling indicates
that it is short. We can therefore assume that the word phonetically must have
been [əkwtalː-], with a voiceless short [t], which undoubtedly must be inter-
preted as the lenis stop /t/: /əkwtalː-/.
These words, in which the dental stops are in graphic intervocalic position
but in fact stand in postconsonantal position, show that both fortis and lenis
stops can occur in this position, and that the former is realized as a voiceless
long stop [tː], but the latter as a voiceless short stop [t]. This means that spell-
ings of the structure °C-ta(-) can in principle denote both /°Ctːa(-)/, with a
their *t. This can only be explained by the presence of the laryngeal between *t and *i,
which then blocked the assibilation. Since the assibilation in *ti is a specifically Hittite
development, the laryngeal must have been still present at that moment, and can have
been lost only later on. In that sense, the laryngeal did leave an indirect trace in this word,
albeit not glottalization.
34 Attested twice: instr. a-ku-ta-al-li-it (KUB 9.20, 5), a-ku-ta!-al-li-it (KUB 2.13 i 8 (text:
-ga-)).

fortis stop, and /°Cta(-)/, with a lenis stop, and that one can only decide be-
tween the two on the basis of alternative spellings where the dental stop
occurs in graphic intervocalic position, or on the basis of etymological
considerations.
7 Dental Stops after r and l
Words in which dental stops follow the resonants r and l (note that in genuine
Hittite words we never find a dental stop following m) were also left out of
consideration in Kloekhorst 2013. I will therefore treat these here.
First, I will look at the spelling of dental stops after r. In OS texts, the 3sg.
pres.mid. form for ‘he stands’ is consistently spelled ar-ta(-ri) (7 times) with the
sign TA, and never with the sign DA. This indicates the presence of a voiceless
stop: [ərta(ri)]. Also in MS and NS texts, this word is consistently spelled with
TA (ca. 160 times in my files), and never with DA, showing that also in Middle
and New Hittite times it contained a voiceless stop, [ərta(ri)]. Etymologically,
this word is generally assumed to reflect a preform *h3r-to(-), which would
mean that here the PIE sequence *-rt- yielded Hitt. [-rt-]. This differs from the
outcome of PIE *t after *n, where it underwent voice assimilation to OH [d].
However, since the *t in *h3r-to(-) is part of an ending, it cannot be excluded
that an analogy to verbal stems ending in an obstruent has taken place (cf. the
case of kuenta ‘he killed’ as treated above). In order to investigate the regular
outcome of PIE *-rt- in Hittite, it is better to treat words in which analogical
influence can be excluded.
A possible candidate is the verb ḫuu̯ art-i / ḫurt- ‘to curse’ and its derivative
ḫurtai- / ḫurti- ‘curse’, which on the basis of an etymological connection with
OPrus. wertemmai ‘we swear’ may be reconstructed as *h2uort- / *h2urt- and
*h2urt-oi- / *h2urt-i-, respectively.35 Unfortunately, both words are unattested in
OS texts, but in MS and NS texts, they both occur spelled with the sign TA as
well as with DA: e.g. 1sg.pret.act. ḫur-ta-aḫ-ḫu-un and ḫur-da-aḫ-ḫu-un; acc.pl.
ḫur-ta-a-uš and ḫur-da-a-uš.36 These spellings point to the presence of a voiced
stop [d], which would mean that in these words PIE *-rt- has undergone voice
assimilation to [-rd-]. Since the dental stop is part of the root, it cannot have
been influenced analogically, which would mean that we should regard this
35 Cf. Puhvel HED 3: 436, Kloekhorst 2008: 373, LIV 2: 292. Note that Sturtevant’s connection
(1930: 128) with Lat. verbum ‘word’, Lith. var̃das ‘name’, OPrus. wirds ‘word’, Goth. waurds
‘word’ would point to a root *h2uerdh-, with a *dh.
36 Cf. Puhvel HED 3: 433–434 and Kloekhorst 2008: 372–373 for attestations.

162 Kloekhorst
development as the phonologically regular one, whereas the presence of [t] in

[ərta(ri)] must then be due to restoration of the ending. It should be noted,
however, that because of the absence of OS attestations of ḫuu̯ art-i / ḫurt- and
ḫurtai- / ḫurti-, we cannot be certain whether the voice assimilation of *-rt- to
[-rd-] had already taken place before Old Hittite, or is instead a post-OH devel-
opment. Moreover, since the etymology of ḫuu̯ art-i / ḫurt- and ḫurtai- / ḫurti- is
not fully secure (a reconstruction with root-final *dh has been proposed as
well, cf. footnote 35), these conclusions must remain tentative in any case.
The outcome of the PIE sequence *-rd- is clearer, since it is present in the
oblique stem of the word for ‘heart’, *ḱrd-, a word that is well attested in Hittite.
In OS texts, the oblique cases of ‘heart’ are spelled kar-ta[-…] (KBo 25.107,
4 (OS)), kar-ta-az=(š)-mi-it (StBoT 25.7 iv 6 (OS)), kar-ti-i=š-mi (KBo 22.2 obv.
13 (OS)), kar-di-i=š-ši (KBo 25.102 ii 6 (OS)) and kar-di-i=š-mi (StBoT 25.3 i
12 (OS)). Although no attestations with DA are found, the alternation between
TI and DI37 points to the presence of a voiced stop: [gərd-].38 This is supported
by the attestations from MS and NS texts, where the oblique cases of ‘heart’ are
spelled kar-ta(-) as well as kar-da(-), and kar-ti(-) as well as kar-di(-),39 pointing
to the presence of a voiced dental stop as well: [gərd-]. The development of
PIE *-rd- to OH [-rd-], with a voiced stop, differs, however, from the develop-
ment of PIE *-nd-, which, through pre-PAnat. *[-nʔt-], yielded OH [-nt-], with
a voiceless stop, which phonemically was fortis, /-ntː-/. We therefore must as-
sume that in the PIE cluster *-rd-, which for pre-Proto-Anatolian can be
assumed to have been *[-rʔt-], first the preglottalic feature of the dental stop
was lost, yielding pre-Hitt. *[-rt-], after which the cluster underwent voice as-
similation to OH [-rd-]. Since this latter cluster contrasts with the cluster [-rt-]
as found in arta(ri), we should interpret [-rd-] phonologically as /-rt-/, with the
lenis stop /t/, and [-rt-] as /-rtː-/, with the fortis stop /tː/.
The outcome of the PIE cluster *-rTH- may be visible in the verb šarta-i /
šart- ‘to wipe, to rub’, if this really reflects a root *serdhh2/3-.40 In OS texts, this
verb is attested three times, namely in 3sg.pres.act. šar-ta-i (KBo 17.18 ii 16 (OS),
KBo 17.43 i 14 (OS), KUB 36.110 rev. 20 (OS)). Although the numbers are low, the
absence of spellings with the sign DA seems to indicate that the dental stop of
this word was not ejective, but rather plain voiceless: [sartai]. After r, the clus-
ter *-TH- therefore seems to behave in the same way as after obstruents, i.e. it
37 If we are allowed to assume that in Old Hittite times, just as after n, so also after r the pair
TI vs. DI shows the same distribution in spelling as TA vs. DA.
38 For the assumption that the initial consonant was phonetically a voiced stop [g-], see
Kloekhorst 2014: 426 n. 1666.
39 Cf. Puhvel HED: 190–191 for attestations.
40 Cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 737–738 for this reconstruction.

loses its laryngeal without causing glottalization. However, since *-rdhH- seems
to have yielded OH [-rt-], and not [-rd-], we may assume that the laryngeal
did lengthen the preceding stop before it was totally lost. So the PIE cluster
*-rdhH-, which in pre-Proto-Anatolian terms can be written as *[-rtʔ-], first
yielded pre-Hitt. [-rtːʔ-] (through lengthening of the *[t] because of the follow-
ing laryngeal), after which its outcome in Old Hittite was [-rt-]. Although the
verb šarta-i / šart- is not well attested in younger texts,41 we do find a 3sg.pres.
act. form [šar-]da-a-iz-zi (Bo 4869 ii 3 (Neu 1980: 103) (undat.)), which may in-
dicate that the post-OH form of this verb was [sard°], with a voiced stop. The
development of OH [-rt-] to MH/NS [-rd-] would then be identical to the de-
velopment of OH [-nt-] (the outcome of PIE *-nd- = pre-PAnat. *[-nʔt-]) to
MH/NH [-nd-].
For the position after l, the material is likewise scanty. There are, as far as I
know, no good examples for the development of the PIE clusters *-lt- and *-ld-.
The cluster *-ldh- is attested in the verb mālt-i / malt- ‘to recite’, which is gener-
ally derived from the PIE root *meldh-.42 Its 3sg.pres.act. form is in OS texts
attested 10 times as ma(-a)-al-di, with the sign DI, and once as [ma-]ạ-al-ti,
with the sign TI.43 Although the relative number of attestations with the sign
DI is remarkably high, I assume that this form must be interpreted as [mā́ldi],
with a voiced stop [d].44 This would mean that the PIE cluster *-ldh-, which
should correspond to pre-PAnat. */-lt-/, through voice assimilation yielded OH
[-ld-]. Also in MS and NS texts, we find the spelling ma(-a)-al-di next to ma(-a)-
al-ti, but also 1sg.pres.act. ma-al-da-aḫ-ḫi besides ma-al-ta-aḫ-ḫi,45 clearly
pointing to the presence of a [d].
The PIE cluster *-lTH- may be visible in the word for ‘shoulder’, paltan-,
which can be reconstructed as *pélth2-n, *plth2-én-.46 In OS texts, it is attested
41 Cf. CHD Š: 290–291.

42 Cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 550–551.
43 Cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 268 for attestations.
44 Again, assuming that in Old Hittite times, just as after n, so also after l the pair TI vs. DI
shows the same distribution in spelling as TA vs. DA.
45 Cf. CHD L-N: 132 for attestations.
46 Although this word is usually cited as an a-stem paltana- (thus CHD P: 79–80; Kloekhorst
2008: 622; Puhvel HED 8: 76–79; Tischler HEG P: 401–402), Giorgieri (1992: 72–74) has
convincingly argued that the OH instr. form paltant (KBo 30.30 rev. 5 (OS) [pa]l-ta-an-t=a-
at=kán ~ KUB 58.111 rev. 13 (OH/NS) pal-[t]a-an[-t=a-at=kán]) shows that the noun for
‘shoulder’ originally was an n-stem, and not an a-stem. According to Giorgieri, n-stem
forms are also found in the two nom.sg. forms attested in KUB 43.53 i 7, 24. The former of
these (i 7) is cited in CHD (P: 80) as “pa[l]-t[a-n]a-aš-ša-pa” (following Neu (1980: 26),
who reads the form as “pạl-t[a-n]a-aš-ša-pa”), i.e. as paltanašš=a=pa, but Giorgieri rather

164 Kloekhorst
only once, namely in the instr. form [pa]l-ta-an-t=a-at=kán (KBo 30.30 rev. 5
(OS)). The spelling with the sign TA instead of the sign DA seems to indicate
that this word did not contain an ejective stop. We therefore may assume that
after *l the sequence *-TH- behaves the same as after *r and obstruents, name-
ly that it loses its laryngeal without causing glottalization. Although the one
attestation with the sign TA is not enough to prove whether the stop was voice-
less or voiced, I assume that, just as in šartai = [sartai], the OS form paltant
represents [pəltan-], with a voiceless [t]. In MS and NS texts, we find attesta-
tions spelled with the sign DA as well (cf. CHD P: 79 for attestations), showing
that the OH sequence [-lt-] in younger times has undergone voice assimilation
to [-ld-].
All in all, we can conclude that after *r and *l the outcome of the dental
stops in Old Hittite seems to be the same as after obstruents, namely that ety-
mological *t yields the fortis stop /tː/, etymological *d and *dh merge into the
lenis stop /t/, and clusters with a laryngeal, *-TH-, after having undergone
lengthening of the dental stop, lose their laryngeal without causing glottaliza-
tion and thus merge with the fortis stop /tː/. The only difference is that after r
and l the distinction between the fortis and lenis stops is phonetically realized
as a difference in voice, namely [t] vs. [d]. Moreover, after the Old Hittite p
eriod
reads it as pạl-t[a-aš-]ši-ša-pa. The latter (i 24) is cited in CHD (P: 80) as “[pal-ta-n]a-aš-
ši-ša!(text -ta)-aš-ta” (whereas Neu (1980: 26) reads “[pal-t]a-<na>-aš-ši!-ta-aš-ta”), i.e.
paltanaš=šiš=ašta, but Giorgieri is clearly right in reading [pal-t]a-aš-ši-ta-aš-ta. Because
of the form pạl-t[a-aš-]ši-ša-pa in i 7, which Giorgieri analyses as paltaš=šiš=apa, he as-
sumes that the form [pal-t]a-aš-ši-ta-aš-ta must be analyzed as ‘paltaš=šiš!=ašta’. The
form paltaš would then be the nom.sg. form of a common-gender n-stem noun paltan-,
just as the nom.sg. form of the common-gender n-stem noun ḫāran- ‘eagle’ is ḫāraš. I fully
agree with Giorgieri’s analyses, except for one detail: I would personally rather interpret
the form [pal-t]a-aš-ši-ta-aš-ta attested in line i 24 as representing palta(n)=ššit=ašta, and
read the form from line i 7 as pạl-t[a-aš-]ši-tạ-pa = palta(n)=ššit=apa, i.e. as containing a
nom.sg. form paltan from a neuter n-stem paltan-. In this way, the several Sumerographic
acc.sg. forms uzuZAG(.LU)-an (cf. CHD P: 79 for attestations) may then be seen as repre-
senting paltan, and not paltanan. Moreover, the interpretation of this noun as neuter
would also better fit the acc.pl. form pal-ta-na (KBo 8.91 obv. 15 (MS)), which in CHD
(P: 79) is unconvincingly read as pal-ta-na[-aš]. Furthermore, it explains the suffixal ac-
centuation in dat.-loc.sg. paltani /pəltáni/ and dat.-loc.pl. paltānaš /pəltánas/ (cf. Kloek-
horst 2014: 456), which can now be explained by reconstructing a PIE proterodynamic
neuter n-stem *pélth2-n, *plth2-én- (cf. e.g. Kloekhorst 2008: 622 for the root etymology).
The specific a-stem forms that point to a common gender noun paltana- are only found
in New Hittite texts (nom.sg.c. pal-ta-na-aš (KBo 1.42 ii 13, iv 14 (fr.) (NH/NS)), acc.sg. UZUpal-
ta-na-a[n] in Bo 3640 iii? 9 (NS), acc.pl.c. pal-ta-nu-uš (KBo 1.42 ii 32 (NH/NS)), and, as
Giorgieri (1992: 73) stated, can easily have been the result of a NH thematizisation of an
original n-stem paltan-.

the fortis stops become lenis stops, which phonetically can be explained as a
case of voice assimilation.
8 Dental Stops before Consonants
When standing before another consonant, dental stops are usually only writ-
ten with signs of the shape Vt, which in Akkadian can be read Vd and Vṭ as well.
Such spellings (e.g. ḫa-at-k° ‘to close’) therefore do not say anything about the
phonetic realization of these stops. Occasionally, we find an alteration in the
spelling of a dental stop before a consonant. For instance, the verb ‘to install’ is
spelled ti-it-nu-, but more often ti-it-ta-nu-. This implies that the dental stop
was long and voiceless: [titːnu-]. Another case is the verb ‘to cause to dry up’,
which is spelled ḫa-at-nu-, but also once ḫa-da-nu-. This seems to imply that in
this verb the dental stop was short and voiced: [hadnu-]. A third case is the
verb ‘to confiscate’, which is usually spelled ap-pa-at-ri°, but also once ap-pa-
ta-ri°. This implies that the stop was short, but it cannot be decided whether it
was voiced or voiceless: [əpːatrie/a-] or [əpːadrie/a-].
Note that in all cases the dental stop precedes a resonant. We may therefore
assume that only here, a distinction between fortis /tː/ (realized as a long
voiceless stop [tː]) and lenis /t/ (realized as a short voiced stop [d]) was made.
There is no evidence for the ejective /tːʔ/ in this position. Since tit(ta)nu-zi ety-
mologically probably reflects *dhi-dhh1-neu-, we may assume that before conso-
nants original ejectives eventually merged with the fortis stops.
Although before resonants a distinction between /tː/ and /t/ was made, we
may assume that before stops this distinction was neutralized. Since e.g. ḫatk-i
is never spelled **ḫa-at-ta-k°, **ḫa-ta-k° or **ḫa-da-k°, we may assume that
the phonetic realization of the dental stop in this position was short and voice-
less: [t].
9 Dental Stops in Word-initial Position: the OH Situation
In Kloekhorst 2010a: 202–207 and Kloekhorst 2016, I treated the spelling of den-
tal stops in word-initial position in Old Hittite texts, and argued (1) that consis-
tent spelling with the sign TA denotes the presence of a plain voiceless stop [t],
which corresponds to PIE *t, *d, and *dh; (2) that consistent spelling with the
sign DA rather points to the presence of a postglottalized stop [tʔ], the out-
come of PIE *TH-; and (3) that alternation in spelling between the signs TA
and DA represents the presence of a voiced stop [d], which only occurs in

166 Kloekhorst
loanwords. It was argued that we should equate these three stops with the
intervocalic ones in the following way:
1. The word-initial voiceless stop [t] is to be equated with the fortis stop
/tː/.
2. The word-initial postglottalized stop [tʔ] is to be equated with the ejec-
tive stop /tːʔ/.
3. The word-initial voiced stop [d] is to be equated with the lenis stop /t/.
As we have seen, the voiceless stop [t], which we now can identify as the fortis
stop /tː/, derives from PIE *t, *d, and *dh, which means that these apparently
have merged at some point in the prehistory of Hittite. This merger can be
dated on the basis of the following argumentation.
Dental stops followed by the vowel *i are subject to assibilation in Hittite.
This assibilation does not occur in Luwian (cf. CLuw. tiu̯ at- ‘sun-god’ vs. Hitt.
šī̆u̯att- ‘day’ < *diéu̯ ot-) and therefore cannot have been Proto-Anatolian, but
must have been specifically Hittite. Since the outcome of word-initial *ti̯-,
which yields Hitt. z- [ts-],47 is different from the outcome of *di̯-, which yields
Hitt. š- [s-],48 we see that at this moment in time the fortis and the lenis stop
were still phonemically distinct.49 The merger of word-initial PIE *t, *d, and
*dh into a single stop [t-] = /tː-/ must therefore have been specifically Hittite as
well.
Apart from giving evidence for the relative dating of the merger of the initial
fortis and lenis stops, it was argued in Kloekhorst 2016 that the assibilation also
provides a crucial argument for determining the exact phonetic difference be-
tween the fortis and lenis dental stops at that moment. As we have seen, the
outcome of PIE *ti̯- is Hitt. z-, i.e. [ts-], whereas the outcome of PIE *di̯- is š-,
i.e. [s-]. The difference in outcome between the two would be inexplicable if
the two clusters differed phonetically from each other in voice: we would then
expect either an outcome [ts-] vs. [dz-], or [s-] vs. [z-], but not [ts-] vs. [s-]. In-
stead, the difference in outcome between *ti̯- and *di̯- can only be explained by
assuming that at that time the phonetic difference between the fortis and the
lenis dental stops was one of consonantal length: *ti̯- = *[tːj-] > *[tːj-] > [ts-],
whereas *di̯- = *[tj-] > *[tj-] > [s-].50 In other words, at the time of assibilation, i.e.
in post-Proto-Anatolian, pre-Hittite times, the fortis dental stop (corresponding
47 E.g. *tieh2- > Hitt. zaḫḫ- ‘battle’, cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 1019–1020.
48 E.g. *diēu̯ - > Hitt. šīu̯ - ‘god’, cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 763–764.
49 Although we do not have good examples for the outcome of PIE *dhi̯- in Hittite, it seems
safe to assume that it would have yielded the same result as *di̯- since in almost all other
contexts the PIE stops *d and *dh have merged in Hittite as a lenis stop.
50 Cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 92 for this analysis, although at that time I had not yet realized its
consequences.

to PIE *t) was a long voiceless stop *[tː-], and the lenis stop (corresponding to
PIE *d and *dh) a short voiceless stop *[t-].51 Later on, in Old Hittite, the two
merged into a short voiceless stop [t-], which is consistently spelled with the
sign TA. Although phonetically the fortis and the lenis stop have merged by
loss of length of the fortis stop, as is typologically common,52 it is synchronic-
ally best to phonologically interpret the outcome of this merger as the fortis
stop /tː/, since a new word-initial dental stop [d-] has entered the language
through loanwords (spelled both with TA and with DA), which w ithin the
overall phonological system of Old Hittite is best interpreted as corresponding
to the lenis stop /t/ that in some other environments is realized as [d] as well.
10 Dental Stops in Word-initial Position: the MH/NH situation
Words that in OS texts are consistently spelled with the sign DA (dā-i / d- ‘to
take’ and dai-i / ti- ‘to put’) show also in MS and NS texts consistent spelling
with DA. However, words that in OS texts are exclusively spelled with the sign
TA are spelled in MS and NS texts with the sign DA as well. Consider for in-
stance the word tamai- / tame- ‘other’, whose ratio of spellings with the sign TA
to spellings with the sign DA is in OS texts 7 : 0 = 100%, in MH/MS texts
22 : 3 = 88%, and in NH/NS texts 55 : 44 = 56%. Likewise the noun tagān(ze/i-
pa-) ‘earth’, whose ratio of TA to DA is in OS texts 6 : 0 = 100%, in MS texts 17 :
1 = 94%, and in NS texts 13 : 62 = 17%.53 In both cases we see that, although in
OS texts these words are exclusively spelled with the sign TA, in MS and espe-
cially in NS texts we encounter many spellings with the sign DA as well. In
Kloekhorst 2010a: 209, I tried to explain this phenomenon by stating that “the
sign DA is taking over the place of TA, eventually on its way to ousting it com-
pletely”, and that “[t]his probably indicates that on a phonetic level, the oppo-
sition between word-initial /ta-/ and /tʔa-/, which was still present in OH times,
is disappearing from MH times onwards”. In the meantime I have changed my
mind, however. I now regard the fact that dā-i and dai-i keep on being consis-
tently spelled with the sign DA, also in MS and NS texts, as an indication that
their initial ejective stop was retained as such in post-OH times. So /tːʔā-/ =
[tʔā-] ‘to take’ and /tːʔai-/ = [tʔai-] ‘to put’ remain unaltered throughout the his-
tory of Hittite. Moreover, in the case of words that in OS texts are exclusively
51 As stated in Kloekhorst 2016, although phonemic consonantal length in word-initial posi-

tion is cross-linguistically rare, it certainly is attested, for instance in the Thurgovian
dialect of Swiss German, in Pattani Malay, in Leti, etc.
52 Cf. Kümmel 2007: 135.

168 Kloekhorst
spelled with the sign TA but in MS and NS texts start being spelled with the
sign DA as well, I now regard this fact as an indication that their initial voice-
less stop [t-] after the Old Hittite period starts to undergo voicing to [d-]. Since
this development of OH voiceless [t-] to MH/NH [d-] in phonological terms
can be described as a development of fortis /tː-/ to lenis /t-/, we can say that
this is a case of a post-OH word-initial lenition.
All in all, we can set up the following chronology of sound laws to account
for the dental stops in initial position.
Table 2 Development of PIE dental stops in initial position
PIE pre-PAnat. (1) PAnat. (2) pre-Hitt. (3) OH (4) MH/NH
*t- ~ *[tː-] > *[tː-] > *[tː-]
}
} }
*d- ~ *[ʔt-] [t-] = /tː-/
*[t-] > *[t-] [d-] = /t-/
*dh- ~ *[t-]
influx from loanwords: [d-] = /t-/
[tsV-] = = [tsV-] =
*tiV- ~ *[tːiV-] > *[tːiV-] > *[tsV-] >
/tsːV-/ /tsːV-/
}
*diV- ~ *[ʔtiV-]
*[tiV-] > *[sV-] > [sV-] = /sV-/ = [sV-] = /sV-/
*dhiV- ~ *[tiV-]
}
*tH- ~ *[tːʔ-] > *[tːʔ-]
> [tʔ-] = /tːʔ-/ = [tʔ-] = /tːʔ-/
}
*dH- ~ *[ʔtʔ-] *[tːʔ-]
*[tʔ-]
*dhH- ~ *[tʔ-]
(1) Loss of the preglottalic feature of *[ʔt-], causing it to merge with *[t-].
(2) Assibilation of *[tː-] and *[t-] because of a following *i; lengthening of
*[t-] to *[tː-] because of a following */ʔ/.
(3) Phonetic loss of length in word-initial position, causing *[tː-] and *[t-] to
merge as [t-], and [tːʔ-] to shorten to [tʔ-]. Influx of [d-] from loanwords.
(4) Merger of OH [t-] and [d-] into MH/NH [d-].
11 Dental Stops in Word-final Postvocalic Position
In word-final postvocalic position, there is only one way that dental stops are
spelled, namely with the signs at, e/it, and ut. It is therefore usually assumed

that Hittite knew only one type of dental stop in this position. Since in
Akkadian these signs are ambiguous with regard to the dental stop they con-
tain (beside Vt, they can be read Vd and Vṭ as well) we cannot on the basis of
these signs say anything about the phonetic rendering of the word-final dental
stops. We therefore have to look for other evidence.
On the basis of the form pa-i-ta-aš ‘he went’, which consists of the 3sg.pret.
form pait ‘went’ to which the enclitic pronoun =aš ‘(s)he’ is added, and in
which the word-final dental stop of pait is intervocalically spelled as a single-
ton, i.e. as a lenis stop, Melchert (1994: 85) states that in word-final position
“[v]oiced stops have been generalized” (note that according to Melchert lenis
stops were distinctively voiced).54 Yet as I have argued in Kloekhorst 2008: 24
and Kloekhorst 2016, the form paitaš cannot be used as evidence, since the
single spelling of t in this form is grammatically relevant.
More telling is the case of the gen.sg. of the word šeppitt- ‘grain’. In OS texts,
this form is spelled še-ep-pí-da-aš, pointing to a phonetic form [sepːidas],
which can phonologically be interpreted as /sépːitas/, with a stem-final lenis
/t/ = [d]. It is generally assumed that this lenis /t/ derives from PIE *t through
the second Anatolian lenition rule, which states that original fortis stops are
lenited when standing between two unaccented vowels in posttonic position,55
so PIE *sépitos > OH [sépːidas] /sépːitas/. Already in Old Hittite, the form še-ep-
pí-da-aš is replaced by še-ep-pí-it-ta-aš, however, with geminate spelling of the
-tt-, pointing to the presence of a long voiceless stop [tː], which can phonologi-
cally be interpreted as fortis /tː/. It is commonly thought that this means that
the original stem-final fortis consonant of šeppitt- < *sépit- has been restored
throughout the paradigm. The question is, however, what the exact model was
for this restoration. As I have argued in Kloekhorst 2016, all oblique cases of the
word šeppitt- (including the nom.-acc.pl. form) contained an ending starting in
a vowel, *sép-it-V°, which means that in all these forms the stem-final *t regu-
larly would have undergone lenition to /t/ = [d]: *sép-it-V° > Hitt. /sépːitV°/ =
[sépːidV°]. These forms therefore cannot have been the source on the basis of
which the fortis /tː/ was generalized. This means that we are only left with the
nom.-acc.sg.n. form šeppit as the possible source for restoration of the stem-
final fortis /tː/. As a consequence, we must assume that this word represents
/sépːitː/ = [sépːitː], containing a word-final postvocalic fortis /tː/. Since in the
labiovelar series there is evidence for a d istinction between word-final lenis
and fortis stops, namely in tak-ku /takwː/ ‘if’ < *tokwe vs. e-ku /ʔḗkw/ ‘drink!’ <
*h1égwh, it was argued in Kloekhorst 2016 that it is likely that this distinction
54 A view that has been followed by many scholars, e.g. Vanséveren 2006: 40; Hoffner and
Melchert 2008: 36; Rieken 2011: 40; van den Hout 2011: 65.
55 Cf. Eichner 1973: 10086; Morpurgo Davies 1982/83: 262; Kloekhorst 2014: 559–564.

170 Kloekhorst
was made in the dental series as well, and that še-ep-pí-it /sépːitː/ < *sépit prob-
ably contrasted with e.g. e-et /ʔḗt/ ‘eat!’ < *h1éd.56
As far as I am aware, there is, besides fortis /tː/ and lenis /t/, in word-final,
postvocalic position no trace of a third phoneme that can be identified with
the ejective phoneme /tːʔ/.
12 Dental Stops in Word-final Postconsonantal Position
In word-final postconsonantal position the presence of dental stops is rare,

since in pre-Hittite a sound law *-CT# > *-C# has taken place (e.g. nom.-acc.
sg.n. appan ‘taken’ < *h1pónt). The few cases of word-final postconsonantal
dental stops that we do find must therefore all be the result of restoration.
One such case is found in the OH adverb mānḫanda, māḫḫanda ‘just as’
(the latter of which is the regular outcome of the former within Old Hittite).
This adverb is spelled in OS texts with the sign DA (ma-a-an-ḫa-an-da, ma-a-
aḫ-ḫa-an-da) as well as TA (ma-a-aḫ-ḫa-an-ta),57 which points to the presence
of a [d]. Since this word develops in the post-OH period to māḫḫan, I have in
Kloekhorst 2010b argued that the dental stop in mānḫanda, māḫḫanda was
word-final, [mānhand] > [māhːand], which in the post-OH period regularly
was lost, yielding MH māḫḫan [māhːan]. The original form mānḫanda
[mānhand] was explained as a univerbation of the adverb [mān] and a form
[hand], which was argued to originally have been the nom.-acc.sg. form of the
noun ḫant- ‘forehead’ < PIE *h2ent-. The word-final dental stop of [hand] must
then have been restored on the basis of the other forms of the paradigm of this
word, which contained a [d] as well (cf. the OS spelling of the dat.-loc.sg. form
ḫa-an-ti58 besides ḫa-an-di,59 pointing to [handi]), which is the regular out-
come of PIE *t after an *n. Since the [d] of [hand] is taken over from the forms
of the paradigm in which it stood in word-internal position, the word
mānḫanda, māḫḫanda cannot be used as an argument for the development of
word-final dental stops per se.
Another group of words where we find a word-final dental stop is formed by
archaic instrumentals of r-stems and r/n-stems. Especially the word denoting
‘by hand’ is telling, since it is spelled both ki-iš-šar-ta and ki-iš-šar-at, indicating
56 As stated in Kloekhorst 2016, although crosslinguistically it is rare to find a contrast in

consonantal length in word-final position, there are certainly languages that have such
contrasts, like e.g. Tashlhiyt Berber, Moroccan Arabic, the Wixli dialect of the Lak lan-
guage, and Tabasaran.
57 Cf. Kloekhorst 2010b: 2185 for attestations.
58 ḫa-an-ti (KBo 6.2 ii 8 (OS), KBo 17.30 iii 6 (OS)).
59 ḫa-an-di (IBoT 1.121 rev. 17 (OS), KBo 25.37 rev. 8 (OS), KBo 25.38, 7 (OS)).

that the dental stop in such instrumentals is really word-final. The dental stops
of these forms must have been restored on the basis of instrumentals of nouns
with a stem ending in a vowel (e.g. ganut ‘by knee’). Etymologically, this dental
stop is often reconstructed as *-d, but this need not be correct.60 As I have ex-
plained in Kloekhorst 2008: 799, the Anatolian evidence rather points to an
original *-t.61 On the basis of the treatment of word-final dentals in postvocalic
position as given above, we would now expect that after vowels this ending
would have yielded Hitt. /-tː/.
In OS texts, we find that the instrumental of r/n-stems is spelled as follows:
ša-kán-da (KBo 22.2 obv. 2 (OS)) ‘with grease’ and ú-i-ta-an-ta (StBoT 25.56 i 5
(OS)) ‘with water’. The fact that the ending is spelled both with the sign TA and
with the sign DA indicates that it consists of a voiced stop, [-d]. This contrasts
with its postvocalic shape, which is /-tː/. Apparently, also in word-final posi-
tion an original */tː/ when standing after n was shortened and subject to voice
assimilation, just as it was in word-internal position.62
In MS and NS texts, we do find instrumentals in -anda and -anta as well, but
these are usually found in younger copies of OH compositions. In MH compo-
sitions, the instrumentals of r/n-stems rather end in -enit, a renewed form that
undoubtedly was created because the OH instrumental ending in [-and] regu-
larly lost its word-final stop (just like OH māḫḫanda [māhːand] lost its stop,
yielding MH māḫḫan [māhːan]).
In the case of the instrumental of the word for ‘hand’, we find in OS texts
three attestations spelled with the sign TA, ki-iš-šar-ta,63 but none with the
sign DA. Although numbers are low, this could mean that in this word the end-
ing consists of a voiceless stop, [-t]. If this is indeed the case, it would mean
that, unlike after n, after r no voice assimilation has taken place. The difference
in the outcome of the dental stop /-tː/ after r and n need not surprise too much:
60 Although Sanskrit did not know an opposition between word-final t and d, its ablative
forms that correspond to the Hittite instrumental are often cited as ending in -d, e.g. mád
‘from me’, tvád ‘from you’, etc. This is undoubtedly done on the basis of the presence of a
d in the OLat. thematic abl.sg. ending -ōd (> Class. Lat. -ō). However, since word-final
*-t regularly yielded OLat. -d (e.g. 3sg.opt. *h1siéh1t > OLat. sied ‘he be’; Weiss 2009: 155),
we cannot on the basis of Sanskrit and Latin decide whether we should reconstruct the
ending with a *t or a *d.
61 The argument runs as follows. Since within Hittite the ablative in -z, which can only
reflect pre-Hittite *-ti and not *-d(h)i, can be seen as a derivative of the instrumental in
-(e/i)t (addition of the locative particle / ending *-i), it strongly suggests that the latter
ending goes back to *-(e)t with a *t.
62 Note that these developments must have taken place after the ending of the instrumental
was restored in these r/n-stems, which may be information that can be used when setting
up a relative chronology of the linguistic prehistory of Hittite.
63 Cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 422 for attestations.

172 Kloekhorst
as we have seen above, in word-internal position r and n also have a different

effect on the dental stops following them. Just like in the instrumentals in
-anda, -anta, the OH instrumental form kiššarta [kɨsːárt] is replaced in the
post-OH period, namely by kiš(ša)ret [kɨsːrétː], probably because the postcon-
sonantal word-final stop of the former form was regularly lost.64
If it is indeed correct that in Old Hittite after an r the instrumental ending is
[-t], whereas after an n it is [-d], we may assume two different phonemes in this
position, and I would equate the voiceless stop [t] with the fortis phoneme /tː/,
and the voiced stop [d] with the lenis phoneme /t/. As far as I am aware, there
is in word-final, postconsonantal position no trace of a third phoneme that
could be identified with the ejective phoneme /tːʔ/.
13 Dental Stops: Conclusion
We can conclude that Hittite knew three phonemically distinct dental stops: a
fortis one, /tː/; an ejective one, /tːʔ/; and a lenis one, /t/. In Old Hittite, the distinc-
tion between fortis and lenis was present in all positions in the word; it was not
until after the OH period that in some specific environments the fortis and lenis
series merged. The ejective is only distinctively present in word-initial, intervo-
calic and postnasal position: in all other environments it had probably merged
with the fortis series already in pre-Hittite times. The phonetic realization of
the three phonemes differs by environment, as indicated in the table below.
Table 3 Phonetic realizations of Hittite /tː/, /tːʔ/, /t/
Phonological Phonetic realizations per environment

value
#TV- -VTV- -nTV- -r/lTV- -CTV- -tR- -tC- -RT# -VT#
fortis /tː/ [t] [tː] [t] [t] [tː] [tː] – [t] [tː]
ejective /tːʔ/ [tʔ] [tːʔ] [tʔ] – – – – – –
lenis /t/ [d] [d] [d] [d] [t] [d] [t] [d] [t]
Although in word-initial position and after resonants the synchronic phonetic

distinction between the fortis and the lenis stops is one of voice ([t] vs. [d],
64 Cf. Kloekhorst 2014: 422–423 for a detailed analysis of the inner-Hittite diachronic devel-
opment of the instrumental form of ‘hand’.

respectively), it was argued above that for word-initial position this distinction
originally was one of consonantal length and not of voice. I therefore assume
that this originally was the case in the position after resonants as well, just as it
synchronically still is after obstruents, so *[tː] vs. *[t]. In intervocalic position,
the phonetic distinction between the fortis and the lenis stops is one of both
length and voice, namely [tː] vs. [d], respectively. Because the distinction is
marked in a twofold, and therefore redundant, way, and because after obstru-
ents the distinction is one of length only (as it originally was in word-initial
position), it seems obvious to me that the voiced character of the lenis stops in
intervocalic position is allophonic. I therefore regard it as justified to set up for
all positions in the word an underlying phonemic difference for the fortis vs.
lenis stops that consists of consonantal length only: /tː/ vs. /t/.
The ejective stop is realized as a postglottalized long stop [tːʔ] in intervocalic
position, but as a postglottalized short stop [tʔ] in word-initial and postnasal
position (in the other positions it does not seem to occur). Since the fortis stop,
which underlyingly is long [tː], is in word-initial and postnasal position realized
as a short stop [t], we may assume the same for the ejective stop. This indicates
that the length of the intervocalic variant is original, and that the underlying
phoneme should be set up as a postglottalized long stop /tːʔ/. One could argue,
however, that in this way it is redundantly marked vis-à-vis the fortis and the
lenis stops (/tː/ and /t/, respectively), and that it would suffice to set up the
ejective stop as postglottalized only, /tʔ/. However, since in intervocalic posi-
tion consonantal length is relevant as far as whether the preceding vowel
stands in an open or closed syllable, I prefer to keep the long character of the
ejective stop in my phonemic representation, and therefore write /tːʔ/.
An overview of the development of PIE *t, *d, *dh and *TH in Hittite can be
given as follows (note that the outcomes are given in their phonetic, not pho-
nological shape):
Table 4 Development of PIE dental stops and *TH in Hittite
#TV- -VTV- -nTV- -r/lTV- -CTV-

PIE pre- OH M/NH O/M/NH OH M/NH OH M/NH O/M/NH
PAnat.
*TH *[tːʔ] [tʔ] [tːʔ] [tʔ]

[t] [d] [tː]
*t *[tː] [tː]
[d]
*dh *[t] [t] [d]
[d] [d] [t]
*d *[ʔt] [t] [d]

174 Kloekhorst
Table 4. Development of PIE dental stops and *TH in Hittite (cont.)
-tR- -tC- -VnT# -VrT# -VT#

PIE pre-PAnat. O/M/NH O/M/NH OH OH O/M/NH
*TH *[tːʔ] ? ? ?
[tː]
*t *[tː] [d]a [t]a [tː]
[t]
*dh *[t]
[d] ? ? [t]
*d *[ʔt]
a When restored analogically.
14 Outlook
The phonetic and phonological interpretations of the Hittite dental stops as

presented in this article are for the most part based on an analysis of the distri-
butions in usage of the signs TA and DA. The distributions of the signs TE, TI
and TU on the one hand, and the signs DE/I and DU on the other, have only
been taken into account in the analysis of the spelling of dental stops following
resonants (n, r, and l), and in the spelling of initial stops in Old Hittite (cf. Kloek-
horst 2010a: 209–211). A full analysis of their usage in other positions in the
word remains an important task for the future.
References
Eichner, H. (1973) Die Etymologie von heth. mehur, MSS 31, 53–107.
Giorgieri, M. (1992) Un rituale di scongiuro antico ittita per Labarna-Ḫattušili, SMEA
29, 47–98.
Hoffner Jr., H.A. and Melchert, H.C. (2008) A Grammar of the Hittite Language, Winona
Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.
Kimball, S.E. (1999) Hittite Historical Phonology [IBS 95], Innsbruck: Institut für Sprach-
wissenschaft der Universität Innsbruck.
Kloekhorst, A. (2008) Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon [LIEEDS
5], Leiden, Boston: Brill.
Kloekhorst, A. (2010a) Initial stops in Hittite (with an excursus on the spelling of stops
in Alalaḫ Akkadian), Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 100, 197–241.
Kloekhorst, A. (2010b) Hittite mān, maḫḫan, māḫḫan, māḫḫanda and mānḫanda, in:
R. Kim et al. (eds.), Ex Anatolia Lux. Anatolian and Indo-European Studies in Honor

of H. Craig Melchert on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Ann Arbor, New York:
Beech Stave, 217–226.
Kloekhorst, A. (2012) The phonological interpretation of plene and non-plene spelled
e in Hittite, in: B. Nielsen Whitehead et al. (eds.), The Sound of Indo-European. Pho-
netics, Phonemics, and Morphophonemics, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum,
243–261.
Kloekhorst, A. (2013) The signs TA and DA in Old Hittite: evidence for a phonetic dif-
ference, AoF 40, 125–141.
Kloekhorst, A. (2014) Accent in Hittite: A Study in Plene Spelling, Consonant Gradation,
Clitics, and Metrics [StBoT 56], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
Kloekhorst, A. (2016) The Anatolian stop system and the Indo-Hittite hypothesis, IF 121,
213–248.
Kouwenberg, N.J.C. (2003) Evidence for post-glottalized consonants in Assyrian, JCS
55, 75–86.
Kümmel, M.J. (2007) Konsonantenwandel. Bausteine zu einer Typologie des Lautwandels
und ihre Konsequenzen für die vergleichende Rekonstruktion, Wiesbaden: Reichert.
Melchert, H.C. (1994) Anatolian Historical Phonology [LSIE 3], Amsterdam, Atlanta:
Rodopi.
Melchert, H.C. (2008) Problems in Hittite pronominal inflection, in: A. Lubotsky et al.
(eds.), Evidence and Counter-Evidence. Essays in Honour of Frederik Kortlandt, Vol. 1:
Balto-Slavic and Indo-European Linguistics [SSGL 32], Amsterdam, Atlanta: Rodopi,
367–375.
Morpurgo Davies, A. (1982/83) Dentals, rhotacism and verbal endings in the Luwian
languages, ZVS 96, 245–270.
Neu, E. (1980) Althethitische Ritualtexte in Umschrift [StBoT 25], Wiesbaden:
Harrassowitz.
Patri, S. (2009) La perception des consonnes hittites dans les langues étrangères au
xiiie siècle, ZA 99, 87–127.
Rieken, E. (2011) Einführung in die hethitische Sprache und Schrift, Münster:
Ugarit-Verlag.
van den Hout, Th. P.J. (2011) The Elements of Hittite, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Vanséveren, S. (2006) Nisili. Manuel de langue hittite, Volume i, Leuven: Peeters.
Weiss, M. (2009) Outline of the Historical and Comparative Grammar of Latin, Ann
Arbor, New York: Beech Stave.

Chapter 9
Über die hethitische 3. Sg. Präsens auf -ia-Iz-zi

Martin Joachim Kümmel
Abstract
Many Hittite verbs in -ja- show a 3rd singular present in -ia-Iz-zi and similar forms.
These have been explained as resulting from Luwian influence. However, the phenom-
enon also occurs in cases where such an influence is improbable, and is extremely
widespread. The distribution of forms written with -ia-I° points to an innovation for
older -i-e-I°, parallel to slightly earlier variant writings with -ia-a° in the same forms
(while other forms always had only -ia-a°). It is argued that this variation is best ex-
plained by phonetic similarity of /ja/ and /je/ resulting in the possibility of using -ia-
for /je/ and thus allowing scribes to write -ia-I° in the sense of -je-e°. Thus, there was a
graphical innovation but no real linguistic change.
Keywords
Luwian influence – verb inflection – writing – phonetics – graphic innovation
1 Einführung1
Oettinger (1979, 27, 382) konstatiert, dass sich „bei manchen i̯e-Stämmen“
sekundär nur in den dritten Personen des Singulars ein Stammauslaut °(i)i̯ae-
zeige, „andere Singularpersonen sind kaum, Pluralpersonen nicht betroffen“,
d.h. die übrigen Formen würden gewissermaßen von den i̯e-Stämmen sup
pliert. Ibid. S. 382 wird diese Tendenz beim Prototyp, nach dem sich dann an-
dere gerichtet hätten, auf keilschriftluwische Vorbilder zurückgeführt, z. B.
kluw. šapiyai-mma- → heth. Imperativ ša-pí-ia-i.
1 Mitgemeint sind auch alle anderen Formen mit der gleichen Graphie, also auch 3. Sg.
Prät. -ia-It; 3. Sg. Med. -ia-It-ta(-). Für Diskussion zu danken habe ich H. Craig Melchert
und Alwin Kloekhorst. Die syllabische Transliteration folgt der Praxis des CHD, ebenso
die Abkürzungen für Text- und Schriftklassen sowie Belegangaben. Die interpretierende
Umschrift verzichtet auf unnötige Diakritika, also s = š, h = ḫ, j = i̯, w = u̯ .

Über die hethitische 3. Sg. Präsens auf -ia-Iz-zi 177
Beispiele:
tekussiezzi OS, tekkussie[zzi] MH/MS ~ tekkussijazzi tekkussijaizzi MH/MS

OH/NS
aniēzzi OS ~ anijazzi NS anijaēzzi NS
pessiēzzi OS ~ pessijazzi MH/MS pessijaizzi OH/NS
wassiezzi MH/MS+OH/NS ~ wassijazzi OH/NS wassijaizzi NS
arsiēzzi OS ~ arsijazzi OH/NS ārsijaizzi OH/NS
tarkummiēzzi NS tarkummijaizzi NS
kardimijaz-zi, Med. kardimijattari MH/MS kartimmijaizzi, Med.
kardimijaittat MH/MS
Zwar haben einige dieser Verben wirklich luwische Entsprechungen, doch die
betreffenden Verben gehören im Luwischen teilweise gerade zu den gewöhn-
lichen -i/ja-Stämmen und zeigen keine Formen auf -ai-, vgl. 3. Sg. Prät. kluw.
tar-kum-mi-i-[ta]; hluw. LEPUS+ra/i-ta /t(a)barrita/, LEPUS+ra/i-ia-ta /t(a)-
barrijata/. Letztere erscheinen zudem gerade nicht in der 3. Singular, in der
luwisch nur -it(t)i, -it(t)a oder -at(t)i, -at(t)a bezeugt ist.
Melchert (2005: 454f.) hat sich denn auch gegen Oettingers Erklärung ge-
wandt und rechnet statt mit Entlehnung der ganzen Flexion aus dem Luwi-
schen nur mit einem direkten Einfluss luwischer Formen der 3. Sg. auf -jai, die
dann im Hethitischen zu -jai-zzi umgebildet wurden; von dort aus habe sich
die Stammvariante -jai- sporadisch auch auf andere Formen ausbreiten kön-
nen, die im Hethitischen sonst -ae-/ai- haben können, vgl. z. B. einige Belege
der 2. Sg. Imperativ mit -ia-i: kluw. hanhanijai, paddalijai; hluw. taparrijai* (un-
gesichert). Es gibt jedoch kaum direkte Entsprechungen von luw. -jai = heth.
-ia-I(z-zi); gefunden habe ich nur heth. ta-par-ri-ia-Iz-zi ≃ hluw. *taparijai (?);
die Klasse ist im Luwischen offenbar auch nicht sehr häufig. Von Bedeutung ist
auch der Beleg ạ-ni-ia-e-ez-zi (KUB 41.15 obv. 13, NS), der zeigt, dass man nicht
ohne weiteres /-aittsi/ lesen kann, wie Melcherts Erklärung das voraussetzt.
Wichtiger noch ist, dass sich auch viele Fälle von unerwartetem ‹ia-I°›,
‹ia-e°› finden, für die sich kein Vorbild mit -ai- finden lässt, z. B. die folgenden
Formen:
3. Pl. Prät. pí-ia-er ‘gaben’ (KUB 31.68:43, NH) neben älterem pí-i-(e-)er
OS, pí-e-er MH/MS
zum athematischen hi-Verb pai-/pi- ‘geben’; keine 3. Sg. *pí-ia-iz-zi als
Ausgangspunkt
Vgl. aber 1. Pl. pijawen und luw. /pijai/: hluw. pi-ia-i

178 Kümmel
da-ia-er ‘stahlen’ MH/MS neben da-i-e-er MH/MS (erst spät 3. Sg.

Präs. [ta-a-]ia-Iz-zi)
i-ia-er ‘machten’ (KUB 34.90:7, NS) neben älterem i-e-er OS+ (← 3. Sg.
Präs. i-ia-Iz-zi NS?)
ti-i-ia-er ‘traten’ (KBo 16.35:6, NH/spätjh.) neben ti-(i-)e-er, ti-i-er NH
(← 3. Sg. Präs. ti-ia-Iz-zi NH?)
a-ni-ia-er OH/NS neben a-ni-i-er MH/MS (← 3. Sg. Präs. a-ni-ia-e-ez-zi
NS?).
3. Pl. Präs. i-ia-en-zi (KBo 15.22+ i9, NS) ‘sie machen’ (kaum nach verein-
zeltem aheth. aruwaenzi)
Älter 3. Pl. i-(e-)en-zi (OH/MS) gut belegt neben i-ia-an-zi OS, ia-an-zi
OH/MS, i-an-zi MH/MS.
Im Folgenden wird die Distribution von Schreibungen mit -ia-I° genauer un-
tersucht, zu den Einzelheiten der Belegdaten siehe die Tabellen im Anhang.
2 Untersuchung der Distribution
2.1 Chronologische Distribution

Eine Schreibung mit -ia-I° taucht nur einmal auf einem althethitischen Origi-
nal auf, dann etwas öfter in mittelhethitischen Originalen, sie wird aber erst
auf junghethitischen Tafeln häufiger.
2.2 Intraparadigmatische Distribution

Die betreffenden Formen sind in der älteren Sprache meist mit -i-(e-)I°-, selte-
ner mit -ia-a°- geschrieben, auch später fast nie mit ‹-ia-a-I°› (nur ši-i-ia-a-Iz-zi,
ši-ia-a-It NS),2 und auch andere Formen dieser Verben geben (wie schon bei
Oettinger bemerkt) keinen eindeutigen Hinweis auf ein Paradigma des āe-/ā-
Typs. Bei Verben ohne ältere Belege sind zwar manchmal neben der S chreibung
mit -ia-I° keine anderen Schreibungen der gleichen Formen belegt, z. B. bei
tuhusija(i)- ‘abwarten’, hantija(i)- ‘unterstützen (?)’, huntarija(i)- ‘furzen’, dar-
aus kann aber mangels älterer Belege nichts geschlossen werden. Schreibun-
gen mit -ia-I° erscheinen demnach ausschließlich in Formen, die in der älteren
2 Plene wird nach -ia- aber auch sonst alt vermieden, da die Ligatur I.A -ia- wie -i-a- gebraucht
wurde.

Sprache vorwiegend mit -i-(e-)I° geschrieben sind, niemals in Formen, die

schon früher überwiegend nur -ia-a° zeigen.3
2.3 Interparadigmatische Distribution

Unabhängig von der Morphologie sind solche Schreibungen bei beinahe allen
häufigeren Verbformen mit altem -ie- belegt. Bei Nominalformen scheint es
keine Schreibungen mit -ia-I° zu geben, wobei hier aber nur Abstrakta auf °ies-
sar und der Nom. Pl. der i- und ja-Stämme auf °i-e-eš einschlägig wären. Für die
letzteren ist ab und zu °i-ia-aš belegt.
3 Folgerungen
Die Schreibung mit -i-(e-)I° selbst gehört dagegen überwiegend der älteren
Sprache an und beginnt in dem Zeitraum langsam zu verschwinden, in dem
die Schreibungen mit -ia-I° auftauchen. Es liegt also der Verdacht nahe, dass
-ia-I° die ältere Schreibung -i-(e-)I° ersetzt. Das bedeutet, dass genau die For-
men, die eine ältere Lautung -je- aufwiesen, dem Wandel unterliegen. Da eine
Diphthongierung e > ai nur hinter j wohl eher unwahrscheinlich ist, sollte der
Wandel eher graphisch als lautlich begründet sein. Könnte es sich also bei -ia-
I° einfach um eine jüngere Schreibweise für /je/ handeln, das Zeichen -ia- also
auch als -je- zu lesen sein?
Eine Lesung -je-/-ji- für das Zeichen I.A ist im Akkadischen belegt (altbaby-
lonisch und mittel/neuassyrisch, selten; s. von Soden and Röllig 1967: 19) und
auch schon früher für das Hethitische erwogen worden (vgl. Kronasser 1966:
74f.; Zinko 1981), wurde jedoch meist nicht akzeptiert (vgl. Melchert 1994: 24f.;
Kimball 1999: 173–175 mit Lit.), vor allem aufgrund der in älterer Sprache kon-
sequenten Schreibung von -aC-Zeichen hinter -ia-.
3.1 Schwanken -ia- ~ -i-e- beim Verbum

Nun werden aber auch die Schreibungen (°i)-ia-C°, -Ci-a-, °i-aC-, (°i)-ia-aC-
schon alt- und mittelhethitisch häufiger an Stellen verwendet, wo man
lautliches /je/ erwarten würde, und zwar im Wechsel mit (C)i-(e-)-C° bzw. (C)
i-(e-)IC-, vgl. 3. Sg. Präsens i-(e-)Iz-zi OS ~ ia-az-zi MS ‘macht’ (KUB 36.108 obv.
12). Auch der umgekehrte Wechsel ist belegt, z. B. 1. Sg. Präsens i-ia-mi OS ‘ma-
che’ ~ i-e-mi OS (StBoT 8 ii 22); pé-eš-ši-ia-mi OS ~ pé-eš-ši-e-mi OS ‘werfe weg’;
3 Vgl. Hoffner and Melchert 1998: 202 „The e-grade forms with /-ye-/ (-Ci-(i-)e-) are more fre-
quent in the older language and gradually disappear from use during NH.“

180 Kümmel
a-ni-e-mi OS ~ a-ni-ia-mi NS ‘führe durch’; ḫu-la-a-li-ia-mi OS ~ ḫu-la-a-li-e-mi

OS ‘umwickle’; 3. Pl. Präsens ti-(ia-)an-zi OS ~ ti-(i-)en-zi OS ‘stellen sich hin’.
Häufiger ist einer der beiden Schreibungen etwas früher belegt, aber die ande-
re ebenfalls schon mittelhethitisch, z. B. 2. Sg. OS i-e-ši ~ MS i-ia-ši ‘machst’; 3.
Sg. OS ú-e-mi-Iz-zi ~ MS ú-e-mi-e-Iz-zi ~ ú-emi-ia-az-zi ‘findet’; 3. Pl. OS (i-)ia-
an-zi ~ MS i-(ia-)an-zi ~ i-(e-)en-zi ‘machen’.
Die herkömmliche Erklärung nimmt an, dass hier analogischer Ausgleich
zwischen den beiden Varianten des Themavokals stattgefunden hat. Auffällig
wäre dann freilich, dass der analogische Ausgleich im gleichen Text und der
gleichen Periode in beide Richtungen abgelaufen sein müsste und zudem weit-
gehend auf die je-Verben beschränkt blieb. Bei den ske-Verben ist ein solches
synchrones Schwanken nämlich sehr selten und taucht nur bei der 1. 2. Plural
und im Medium auf. Auch bei ae- und ue-Verben findet es sich nur vereinzelt:
niemals 3. Sg. *-a-az-zi neben -a-(e-)ez-zi; nur einmal 3. Sg. ú-wa-az-zi NS
‘kommt’ neben ú-(e-)ez-zi OS+, und in der 3. Plural selten -en-zi: a-ru-wa-(a-)
an-zi OS ~ a-ru-wa-en-zi OS ‘verbeugen sich’; ú-wa-an-zi, ú-an-zi OS ~ ú-en-zi
OS ‘kommen’; kap-pu-u-en-zi OS neben späterem kap-pu-wa-an-zi NS, kap-pu-
u-an-zi OH/NS ‘zählen’.
Das wirft die folgenden Fragen auf: Ist es wirklich wahrscheinlich, dass im
Althethitischen sowohl /°jettsi/ als auch /°jattsi/ mögliche Ausgänge der 3. Sg.
Präsens waren, und dass es für die je-Klasse jahrhundertelang unklar war, wel-
chen Vokal die Ausgänge eigentlich jeweils hatten? Wäre es nicht vorteilhafter,
wenigstens mit einer sehr großen phonetischen Ähnlichkeit rechnen zu kön-
nen, die ungenaue Schreibungen erlaubte?
3.2 Schwanken -ia- ~ -i-e- sonst

Unterstützend kommt hinzu, dass auch außerhalb der thematischen Verben in
einigen Fällen für ursprüngliches /ja/ Schreibungen mit -i-(ia-)e- erscheinen,
die nicht analogisch erklärbar sind, wie z. B. vgl. 3. Pl. pí-ia-er (s. oben); 3. Sg.
Med. [z]é-i-e-ri (KBo 18.201 rev. 8, NS) für älteres zé-(e-)a-ri, zé-(e-)ia-ri MH/MS,
in dessen Paradigma keine Formen mit altem -je- vorkamen; ta-i-Iz-zi-la- ‘Dieb-
stahl’ MH/NS neben ta-ia-az-zi-il, ta-ia-zi-la- OS, da-ia-zi-la- OH/MS; iš-ḫi-ia-
ni-uš ‘Haare’ neben iš-ḫi-e-ni-uš (beide OH/NS) von ishi(a)- ‘binden’. U mgekehrt
steht auch -i-ia- für etymologisches -i-e-, z. B. im Nom. Pl. der i-Stämme °i-ia-aš
für (meist älteres) °i-e-eš;4 3. Pl. Prät. ú-e-mi-ia-ar, ša-pa-ši-ia-ar, ḫa-a-ni-ia-r°
(vgl. Neu 1989; Melchert 1995); šu-up-pí-ia-aš-n° ‘Reinheit’ n eben šu-up-pí-eš-n°
< *suppi-esn-.
4 Vgl. Melchert 1995; Oettinger 2003; Yakubovich 2009: 355.

Das kann wohl nur so verstanden werden, dass der Vokal in der Folge /ja/
wenigstens phonetisch einem /e/ so ähnlich war, dass umgekehrte Schreibun-
gen möglich waren. Ein echter Zusammenfall mit /je/ muss dafür nicht vorlie-
gen, es könnte genügen, wenn z.B. /ja/ = [jæ~jɛ] gegenüber /je/ = [jɛ~je] und
/e/ = [ɛ] vorlag, so dass die Realisierung von /a/ nach /j/ mit einer (häufigen)
Realisierung von /e/ identisch sein konnte. Ein vollständiger Zusammenfall
wie im Litauischen (mit ‹Cia› = ‹Ce› /Cʲa/, /Cʲā/ = [Cʲɛ], [Cʲæ:]) oder im frühen
Slavischen (mit *Cja > *Cje) fand also wohl nicht statt.5
Melchert (1984: 161; vgl. Kimball 1999: 174f.) argumentiert allerdings, dass
eine analogische Erklärung für -ia- anstelle von -i-e- deswegen wahrscheinli-
cher sei, weil diese Schreibungen sich graduell über die Paradigmen ausbreiten
und die jeweilige Häufigkeit von -a- und -e- also morphologisch bedingt sei.
Dies spräche gegen einen Lautwandel mit völligem Zusammenfall der
Lautungen.
3.3 Zum Wechsel -e- ~ -a- in der thematischen Flexion

In der Tat zeigen die Formen der 3. Singular viel häufiger -e- als alle übrigen
Formen, und dies zeigt, dass es wenigstens im älteren Hethitischen eine laut-
liche Differenz gegeben haben muss, die derjenigen bei anderen thematischen
Verbklassen entsprach. Auch diese zeigen den Vokal -e- vor allem in der 3. Sg.,
während sonst -a- stark dominiert (mit Ausnahme der 2. Sg. Imperativ Aktiv
auf -i). Nur die ske-Verben verhalten sich anders, insofern als althethitisch der
Vokal -a- überhaupt nur vor nz, nt und hh erscheint, also dort, wo altes *e laut-
gesetzlich als hethitisch a erscheint. Es sieht also so aus, als sei als verbaler
Themavokal im Hethitischen und Anatolischen generell nur *e verwendet
worden, das heth. betont meist é ergab, unbetont meist *e > ‹a› [ǝ?], außer in
der 2. Sg. Ipv. -i und in der 3. Sg. -ezz(i), -et.6 Dieser Zustand dürfte auch bei den
je-Verben gegolten haben, wahrscheinlich aber mit viel größerer phonetischer
Ähnlichkeit der Varianten: /je/ [jɛ~je] ~ /ja/ [jæ~jɛ / jə?]. Hinzu kam wohl Ein-
fluss des Luwischen, in dem es keine phonologische Differenz von /e/ vs. /a/
gab (vgl. Yakubovich 2009: 355ff.).
Die Frage ist nun, wie man diese Differenzen schreiben konnte oder ob man
sie schreiben musste. Für die Schreiber gab es zwei Möglichkeiten, die Lautung
-je- wiederzugeben: Eine phonetisch möglichst eindeutige Schreibung mit
5 Das spricht auch gegen die Annahme Oettingers (1984, 1985), es habe einen besonderen Um-
laut ja > je vor C + i/e gegeben.
6 Vgl. Yoshida 2009, 2010, 2014; Kümmel 2012: 206f. Nicht ganz klar ist wegen der wenigen
Belege der Vokalismus der 2. Sg. Präteritum. Eigentlich wäre aus unbetontem *-es lautgesetz-
lich -is zu erwarten, belegt ist aber außer -is in °a-(a-)iš (NS) auch -es in °a-a-eš (OH/MS+)
und -as in ú-wa-aš ‘du kamst’ (NS) und °a-a-es.

182 Kümmel
°i-(i-)(e-)-IC oder eine morphonologische mit dem auch in anderen Formen

verwendeten (°i-)ia-(aC)-. Die letztere Schreibweise war freilich missverständ-
lich; sie wurde erst mittelhethitisch häufiger, konnte sich aber anscheinend
nicht als Norm durchsetzen. In mittelhethitischer Zeit konnte aus solchen
Schreibungen eine Regel abstrahiert werden, nach der das Graphem I.A (Rüs-
ter and Neu 1989: 218) auch im phonologischen Sinne als /je/ lesbar war, und
diese Lesung konnte man durch ein folgendes IC-Zeichen markieren, so dass
nun -ia-IC als -je-eC zu verstehen war. Damit hatte man eine Möglichkeit, die
wahrscheinlich immer noch vorhandene lautliche Differenz von -ja- und -je-
zu schreiben, ohne dass eine stark abweichende Graphie nötig war.
4 Alternative: Umbildungen nach der produktiven hatrae-Klasse?
Könnte es sich aber nicht doch um Umbildungen der produktiven hatrae-Klas-

se handeln? Zwar ist in der Tat diese Klasse in jüngerer Zeit sehr expansiv, doch
eigentlich erst junghethitisch, nicht schon mittelhethitisch. In Originalen der
älteren Sprache erscheinen Formen, die man zu dieser Flexionsklasse rechnen
könnte, neben tatsächlich alten Verben dieses Typs und den hier besproche-
nen Formen mit -ia-I° nur bei zwei weiteren Verbalklassen:
1. Bei ursprünglich athematischen hi-Verben auf °ai- (zuerst 3. Sg. Präteri-
tum °a-a-it) und bei lā- ‘lassen’, wo die 3. Sg. la-a-Iz-zi schon mittelhethi-
tisch geläufig ist, ebenso beim Kompositum dālaizzi (MH/MS). Die
Flexion des Kompositums setzt einen Stamm lai- voraus, so dass lāizzi zu
den Verben auf °ai- zu stellen sein könnte.
2. Bei thematischen Verben auf -ue-: Schon mittelhethitisch findet sich die
3. Sg. Präteritum ša-ru-wa-It (MH/MS) zu dem aufgrund der 3. Pl. ša-ru-
u-e-er anzusetzenden Stamm sarue-, vgl. auch kap-pu-u-wa-iz-zi,
k ap-pu-wa-it OH/NS vs. kap-pu-u-Iz-zi MH/MS, kap-pu-u-(e-)et OS. Be-
merkenswert ist aber auch hier wie bei den Formen mit -ia-I°, dass die
sonst alt- und besonders mittelhethitisch beinahe ausnahmslose Plene-
schreibung von a fehlt, und bei dieser Klasse schwankt der Themavokal
fast genauso stark wie bei den ie-Verben, vgl. kap-pu-u-e-ši OH/NS, kap-
pu-u-en-zi OS ~ kap-pu-u-wa-ši, kap-pu-u-an-zi OH/NS. Daher könnte der
Verdacht aufkommen, dass -wa-I° vielleicht auch als °we-e° zu lesen sein
könnte.7 Immerhin sind hier jedoch — anders als bei -ia-I° — graphisch
eindeutige Formen der ae-Klasse wenigstens junghethitisch klar belegt,
7 Vgl. Kronasser 1966: 71, wogegen Melchert 1994: 24f. Das Zeichen PI -wa- wird auch akk. früh
als -we-/-wi- gebraucht, s. von Soden – Röllig 1967: 43.

vgl. ša-ru-wa-a-It NH, kap-pu-u-wa-a-an-zi, kap-pu-u-wa-a-it NS, šu-ú-wa-

a-iz-zi OH/NS. Da beide Suffixe vor allem Denominative bilden, wäre
eine direkte Umbildung auch funktional leichter verständlich.
Erst junghethitisch sind dann auch in anderen Klassen sekundäre Übergänge
belegbar, z. B. bei mehrsilbigen hi-Verben auf °a-, die ihrerseits teilweise aus
älteren einsilbigen Konsonantenstämmen entstanden waren, vgl. z. B. OS
lāhui ‘gießt’ → OH/NS lā̆huwā̆i → NH lāhuwāizzi. Die Produktivität der ae-Klas-
se war also zunächst durchaus begrenzt, und für thematische Stämme (außer
vielleicht den ue-Verben) ist sie eigentlich nicht nachweisbar. Eine rein mor-
phologische Erklärung für die Schreibungen mit -ia-IC kann also nicht weiter
gestützt werden.
5 Ergebnis
Es bleibt also festzuhalten: Hinweise auf große phonetische Ähnlichkeit von /

ja/ und /je/ finden sich schon seit dem Althethitischen. Daraus kann sich dann
eine Verwendung des Zeichens -ia- auch als Graphem für /je/ entwickelt ha-
ben, was dann Schreibungen mit -ia-IC- = [-jeC-] für älteres -i-IC-, -i-e-IC- er-
möglichte, in Konkurrenz mit -ia-aC- mit konservativer Graphemkombination
(⇒ aC- hier ≃ eC-).
Das Phänomen tritt fast nur beim Verbum auf, und der Hauptgrund dafür
dürfte eine Tendenz zu paradigmatischer (morphonologischer) Schreibung
sein, da der Wechsel /je/ ~ /ja/ nur dort vorkam. Die Sonderschreibung war
also anderswo nicht motiviert und unterblieb daher. Möglicherweise zu tren-
nen sind luwische Lehnwörter wie taparrija(i)-, für die echte ja-Flexion unsi-
cher ist (Gruppe 5 im Anhang).
Abkürzungen
akk. akkadisch
heth. hethitisch
hluw. hieroglyphenluwisch
Ipv. Imperativ
kluw. keilschriftluwisch
luw. luwisch
Präs. Präsens
Prät. Präteritum
spjh. spätjunghethitisch

184 Kümmel
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186
Anhang: Formenübersicht
Schematische Markierung der Bezeugung: OS OH/MS OH/NS MH/MS=OH/NS MH/MS MH/NS NH NS
Verbstamm Form -ia-IC- -i-e-IC- -ia-aC- -ia-a-(aC-) luw.
1: OS
urkia- ‘aufspüren’ 3. Sg. Präs. ur-ki-ia-Iz-zi u-ur-kI-Iz-[zi] –
2: MS
ishuzzia- ‘umgürten’ 3. Sg. Präs. iš-ḫu-uz-zi-ia-Iz-i – –
[iš-ḫu-u]z-zi-ia-i-e-zi
3. Sg. Prät. iš-ḫu-zi-ia-It
3. Sg. Ipv. iš-ḫu-u[z-zi-Id-du]
iš-ḫu-zi-Id-du
kardimmia- ‘wütend 3. Sg. Präs. kar-tim-mi-ia-Iz-zi – kar-di-mi-ia-az-zi –
sein’
3. Sg. Präs. M. ka[r-di-mi-]ia-It-ta kar-di-mi-ia-at-ta-ri
kar-tim-mi-ia-at-ta[-ri]
kar-tim-mi-ia-ta-ri
kar-tim-mi-ia-at-t[a]
3. Sg. Prät. M. kar-di-mi-ia-It-ta-at – kar-tim-mi-at-ta-at
Kümmel

tāja- ‘stehlen’ 3. Sg. Präs. [ta-a-]ia-Iz-zi ta-(a-)i-Iz-zi da-a-ia-az-zi –
da-a-i-Iz-zi ta-ia-az-zi
da-i-e-ez-zi, ta-a-Iz-zi da-i-ia-zi
[d]a-a-i-e-ez-zi, da-a-i-ia-zi, ta-a-i-ia-zi
ta-a-i-e-ez-zi
3. Sg. Prät. da-ia-at
da-a-i-ia-at
3. Pl. Prät. da-ia-er da-i-e-er
tarkummia- 3. Sg. Präs. tar-kum-mi-ia-Iz-zi tar-kum-mi-e-ez-zi tar-kum-mi-i-
‘übersetzen’
2. Sg. Ipv. tar-ku-mi-ia-i
tekkussia- ‘zeigen’ 3. Sg. Präs. te-ek-ku-uš-ši-ia-Iz- te-ku-uš-ši-Iz-zi te-ek-ku-uš-ši-ia-az-zi –
zi te-ek-ku-uš-ši-I[z-zi]
te-ek-ku-uš-ši-i-Iz-zi
3. Sg. Prät. te-ek-ku-uš-ši-e-et
wia- ‘schreien’ 3. Sg. Präs. ú-i-ia-Iz-z[i] ú-i-e-ez-zi ú-i-ia-an-[zi] –

(← wai-) ú-i-ia-Iz-zi
3: OH-MH/NS
ania- ‘durchführen’ 1. Sg. Präs. a-ni-e-mi a-ni-a-mi a-an-ni-i-
a-ni-ia-mi
2. Sg. Präs. a-ni-ia-ši
3. Sg. Präs. ạ-ni-ia-e-ez-zi a-ni-Iz-zi, a-ni-e-ez-zi a-ni-ia-(az-)zi, an-ni-ia-az-zi
3. Sg. Prät. a-ni-i-e-et a-ni-ia-at, a-ni-at
187
3. Pl. Prät. a-ni-ia-er a-ni-(i-)er, a-ni-i-e-e[r]

188
arsia- ‘fließen’ 3. Sg. Präs. a-ar-ši-ia-Iz-zi ar-ši-e-ez-zi ar-ši-ia-(az-)zi, [a]r-ši-ia-zi a-ar-ši-ia-

(← ars-) ar-ši-i-e-ez-zi, ar-ši-Iz-zi a-ar-aš-ši-ia-zi
a-ar-aš-ši-Iz-zi
harija- ‘vergraben’ 1. Sg. Präs. ḫa-ri-e-mi ḫa-a-ri-a-mi, ḫa-a-ri-ia-mi –
3. Sg. Präs. ḫa-ri-ia-Iz-zi ? ḫa-ri-Iz-zi, [ḫa-ri-]e-ez-zi, ḫa-ri-ia-zi, ḫa-ri-ia-az-zi,
ḫa-a-ri-e-ez-zi ḫa-ari-ia-zi
1. Sg. Prät. ḫa-ri-e-nu-un
ija- ‘machen’ 1. Sg. Präs. i-e-mi i-ia-mi (a-ia-)
i-ia-am-mi, i-ia-mi
2. Sg. Präs. i-e-ši i-ia-ši, i-ia-ši
3. Sg. Präs. i-ia-Iz-zi i-e-zi, i-Iz-zi, i-e-ez-zi ia-az-zi, i-ia-az-zi
i-e-ez-zi i-ia-zi, i-ia-zi, i-ia-az-zi
2. Sg. Prät. i-e-eš i-ia-aš
3. Sg. Prät. i-e-et i-ia-at
i-e-et, e-et i-ia-at
i-e-et?
3. Pl. Präs. i-ia-en-zi i-en-zi, i-e-en-zi i-ia-an-zi, ia-an-zi, i-an-zi
i-en-zi, i-e-en-zi i-an-zi, i-ia-an-zi
i-ia-an-zi
3. Pl. Prät. i-ia-er i-e-er
i-e-er
Kümmel
3. Sg. Ipv. i-e-ed-du i-ia-ad-du, i-ad-du

i-ia-ad-du

pessia- ‘wegwerfen, 1. Sg. Präs. pé-eš-ši-e-mi pé-eš-ši-ia-mi ?
aufgeben’ pé-eš-še-ia-mi, pé-iš-ši-ia-mi
3. Sg. Präs. pé-eš-ši-ia-Iz-zi pé-eš-ši-i-(e-)ez-zi pé-eš-ši-ia-(az-)zi

pé-iš-ši-ia-Iz-zi pé-iš-ši-(i-)e-ez-zi pé-iš-ši-ia-az-zi
pé-eš-ši-ia-i (!) pé-eš-ši-e-zi, pé-iš-ši-az-zi,
pé-eš-še-ez-zi pé-eš-še-ia-az-zi
pé-eš-ši-zi, peš-ši-Iz-zi pé-eš-še-ia-zi, pé-ši-ia-az-zi
pé-ši-az-zi, peš-ši-ia-zi
3. Sg. Prät. pé-iš-ši-ia-It pé-(e-)eš-ši-(i-e-)et pé-iš-ši-ia-at
peš-še-et, pé-še-et pé-eš-ši-at
pé-eš-ši-ia-at, pé-iš-še!-ia-at
pé-iš-ši-at, peš-ši-ia-at
iskia- ‘salben’ 1. Sg. Präs. (iš-kI-mi) (iš-ga-a-mi)
3. Sg. Präs. iš-ki-ia-Iz-zi iš-kI-Iz-zi iš-ki-ia-zi –
iš-kI-Iz-zi
3. Sg. Prät. iš-kI-It
3. Sg. Ipv. iš-kI-Id-du
sallia- ‘schmelzen’ 3. Sg. Präs. M. šal-li-ia-It-ta [šal-l]i-i-e-et-ta
3. Sg. Ipv. M. šal-li-(e-)et-ta-ru
sarria- ‘trennen’ 3. Sg. Präs. šar-ri-ia-Iz-zi šar-rI-Iz-zi šar-ri-ia-zi –
(← sarr-) šar-rI-e-ez-zi
3. Sg. Prät. šar-ri-i-e-et
189
3. Sg. Präs. M. šar-rỊ-Ịt[-ta]

190
sija- ‘schießen’ 3. Sg. Präs. ši-(i-)ia-Iz-zi ši-i-e-ez-zi ši-ia-az-zi ši-i-ia-a-iz- –

ši-e-ez-zi, ši-i-e-z[i] zi
3. Sg. Prät. ši-(i-)ia-It – – ši-ia-a-It
3. Pl. Prät. ši-ia-er – – ?ši-ia-a-u-
e-ni
ši-ia-(a-)
nu-un
tija- ‘treten’ 3. Sg. Präs. ti-ia-Iz-zi ti-Iz-zi, ti-e-ez-zi ti-ia-zi, ti-i-ia-az-zi –
ti-i-Iz-zi, ti-i-e-ez-zi
3. Pl. Präs. ti-i-in-zi, ti-i-en-zi ti-an-zi, ti-i-ia-an-zi
ti-en-zi
ti-e-en-zi
3. Sg. Prät. ti-i-e-et ti-ia-at, ti-i-ia-at
ti-e-et
3. Pl. Prät. ti-i-ia-er ti-e-er, ti-i-er, ti-i-e-er –
duwarnia- 3. Sg. Präs. du-wa-ar-ni-ia-Iz-zi du-wa-ar-nI-Iz-zi du-wa-ar-ni-ia-az-zi, ?la-wa-ar-
‘zerbrechen’ tu-wa-ar-nI-Iz-zi du-wa-ar-ni-ia-zi ri-i°
(← duwarne-) du-wa-ar-nI-zi
du-wa-ar-nI-e-ez-zi
wemija- ‘finden’ 3. Sg. Präs. ú-e-mi-ia-Iz-zi ú-e-mi-(ez-)zi ú-e-mi-ia-(az-)zi h. wa/i-mi-
ú-e-mi-e-ez-zi
Kümmel
3. Sg. Prät. ú-e-mi-It ú-e-mi-ia-at

3. Pl. Prät. ú-e-mi-er, ú-e-mi-(i-)e-er ụ́-ẹ-mỊ-iạ-ạr

4: NH, NS
aria- ‘Orakel 3. Sg. Präs. a-ri-e-ez-zi a-ri-ia-zi, a-ri-ia-az-zi –
befragen’
3. Sg. Prät. a-ri-ia-at
3. Pl. Prät. a-ri-ia-er a-ri-(i-)e-er, a-ri-er
harkia- 3. Sg. Ipv. [ḫar-]ki-e-ed-du
‘verschwinden’
3. Sg. Ipv. M. ḫar-ki-ia-It-ta-ru ḫar-ki-It-ta-ru
harnia- ‘besprengen’ 3. Sg. Präs. ḫar-ni-ia-Iz-zi ḫar-ni-e-ez-zi ḫar-ni-ia-zi –
(← harn-)
3. Sg. Ipv. ḫar-ni-ia-ad-du
huittija- ‘ziehen’ 3. Sg. Präs. ḫu-It-ti-ia-i (!) ḫu-It-ti-e-ez-zi ḫu-It-ti-ia-zi –
ḫu-u-It-ti-ia-zi
ḫu-(u-)It-ti-ia-az-zi,
ḫu-It-ia-az-zi
hulalia- ‘umwickeln’ 3. Sg. Präs. ḫu-la-a-li-ia-Iz-zi ḫu-la-a-LI-e-z[i], ḫu-la-a-li-az-zi, ḫu-la-li-ia-az- –

ḫu-la-a-li-Iz-zi zi, [ḫu-]ul-la-li-ia-az-zi
ḫu-u-la-a-li-Iz-zi,
ḫu-u-la-li-(e-)ez-zi
3. Sg. Präs. M. ḫu-la-li-ia-at-ta-ri
3. Sg. Prät. M. ḫu-la-li-It-ta-at
191

192
parsia- ‘brechen’ 3. Sg. Präs. pár-ši-ia-Iz-zi pár-ši-i-e-ez-zi, pár-ši-zi pár-ši-(ia-)az-zi –

3. Sg. Präs. M. pár-ši-It-ta-ri
3. Sg. Ipv. M. pár-ši-It-ta-ru pár-ši-ia-ad-da-ru
peja- ‘senden’ 1. Sg. Präs. pé-i-e-mi, pé-e-i-mi pé-i-ia-mi –
pé-ia-mi
2. Sg. Präs. pé-i-e-ši
3. Sg. Präs. pé-e-i-ia-I[z-zi] pé-i-e-ez-zi, pé-e-ez-zi pé-e-ia-zi
pé-i-e-zi
3. Sg. Prät. pé-i-e-et
pi- ‘geben’ 1. Pl. Präs. pí-(i-)ia-ú-e-ni pí-(i-)ia-
3. Pl. Präs. pí-en-zi pí-(ia-)an-zi, pí-an-zi h.pi-ia-/pi-i-
pí-(ia-)an-zi
1. Pl. Prät. pí-ia-ú-en
3. Pl. Prät. pí-ia-er pí-i-er, pí-i-e-er
pí-er, pí-(i-)(e-)er
taistia- ‘laden’ 3. Sg. Prät. da-iš-ti-ia-Iz-zi – ta-[e]š-ti-ia-zi –
(← taistai-)
3. Pl. Prät. da-iš-te-i-e-er
tastasia- ‘tuscheln’ 3. Sg. Präs. ta-(a-)aš-ta-ši-ia- ta-aš-ta-ši-ia-zi –
Iz-zi
3. Sg. Prät. ta-aš-ta-ši-ia-It
Kümmel

wakkaria- 3. Sg. Präs. wa-ag-ga-ri-ia-Iz-zi wa-ag-ga-ri-Iz-zi wa-ak-ri-ia-zi –
‘revoltieren’ wa-ag-ga-ri-ia-(az-)zi
wa-ak-k4a-(a-)ri-ia-zi
3. Sg. Prät. wa-ag-ga-ri-ia-at
wassia- ‘bekleiden’ 3. Sg. Präs. wa-aš-ši-ia-Iz-zi wa-aš-ši-Iz-zi wa-aš-ši-ia-(az-)zi –
(← wasse-) wa-aš-ši-e-ez-zi
wisuria- ‘ersticken’ 3. Sg. Präs. ú-i-šu-ri-ia-Iz-zi ú-i-šu-u-ri-Iz-zi –
3. Sg. Präs. M. ú-i-šu-u-ri-ia-at-ta-ri
3. Sg. Prät. M. ú-i-šu-u-ri-ia-ta-ti
ú-i-šu-(u-)ri-ia-at-ta-ti
ú-e-šu-ri-ia-at-ta-ti
ú-i-šu-ri-ia-ad-da-at
5: nur -ia(i)-
akkurria- ‘?’ 3. Sg. Präs. ak-kur-ri-ia-i (!)
hantia- 3. Sg. Präs. ḫa-an-ti-ia-I[z-zi] –
‘unterstützen’
3. Sg. Prät. ḫa-an-ti-ia-It
huntaria- ‘furzen’ 3. Sg. Präs. M. ḫu-un-ta-ri-ia-It-ta –
lahhia- ‘marschieren’ 3. Sg. Präs. la-aḫ-ḫi-ia-Iz?-zi la-aḫ-ḫi-i°
la-ḫi-ia-Iz-zi
3. Sg. Prät. la-aḫ-ḫi-ia-It
sapia- ‘reinigen’ 2. Sg. Ipv. ša-pí-ia-i ša-pí-ia-i-
193

194
taparria- ‘herrschen’ 2. Sg. Präs. ta-pár-ri-ia-ši h.

taparija-*
3. Sg. Präs. ta-pár-ri-ia-Iz-zi
3. Sg. Prät. ta-pa-ri-ia-It
3. Pl. Prät. da-pár-ri-ia-e-er
2. Sg. Ipv. ta-pár-ri-ia-i
tuḫusia- ‘abwarten’ 3. Sg. Prät. du-ḫu-ši-ia-It, ta-ḫu-ši-
tu-ḫu-ši-ia-I[t] ia-a(-)
tu-ḫu-uš-ši-ia-It
tu-u-ḫu-ši-ia-It
Kümmel

Chapter 10
The Word for Wine in Anatolian, Greek, Armenian,

Italic, Etruscan, Semitic and Its Indo-European
Origin
Reiner Lipp
Abstract
It can be shown that Hittite u̯ ii̯an(a)- ‘grapevine; wine’ continues a Proto-Indo-

European nomen agentis *u̯ éi̯h1-on-/ *u̯ ih1-n-́ ‘twiner, creeping plant, grapevine’, and
that this stem formation provides the derivational base for further Indo-European
words for ‘wine’ such as Latin vīnum < *u̯ ih1-n-ó- and Greek οἶνος < *u̯ ói̯n-o- < *u̯ ói̯(h1)-
n-o-, with the corresponding affiliation adjective preserved in Armenian gini ‘wine’ <
*gu̯ īníi̯o < *u̯ oi̯n-ih2ó-. The morphological structure of the respective base word and its
derivatives corresponds to regular Proto-Indo-European patterns of word formation
and is therefore congruous with the assumption of an Indo-European origin of the
lexemes in question. Accordingly, it is likely that the etymologically isolated Semitic
*u̯ ai̯nu ‘wine’ was borrowed from Mycenaean Greek and that Proto-Kartvelian *γu̯ ini̯o
‘wine’ is a loanword from Proto-Armenian or its prestage.
Keywords
wine – Indo-European – Hittite – Greek – Latin – Etruscan – Semitic – etymology –

internal derivation – hypostasis
Introduction
In the Neolithic period the wild grapevine was to be found in the northern
Mediterranean, on the lower and middle Danube, on the north coast of the
Black Sea (Pontus), in the area of the northern and southern Caucasus, on the
south coast of the Caspian Sea, in the Zagros region and in Anatolia on its
Black Sea and Mediterranean coasts. Since already in the Neolithic period the
berries of the wild grapevine were used for fermentation to wine, the Proto-
Indo-Europeans in their homeland north of the Black Sea and the Caucasus
also probably knew how to produce wine from local wild vines. Therefore it is

196 Lipp
legitimate to search for an explanation of the origin of the various designations

for ‘wine’, which resemble each other in the individual Indo-European lan-
guages, on the basis of the phonology, morphology as well as the lexical and
derivational patterns of Proto-Indo-European and the early stages of the
relevant individual languages. For this purpose, the evidence from the Old
Indo-European languages is presented in the following and supplemented by
material from the adjacent languages.
The first evidence for the production of wine (with admixture of resin for
better preservation) is provided by a residuum of tartaric acid in a ce-
ramic vessel found at a neolithic site from 5400–5000 bc in the northern
Zagros area (Hajji Firuz Tepe, Iran).
See McGovern Glusker, Exner and Voigt 1996, McGovern 2003: 64–74
On the various forms of the word for ‘wine’ and ‘grapevine’ in the Indo-
European area and neighbouring regions, the prehistoric distribution of
the wild grapevine (also in the North Pontus area of the original Indo-
European homeland) as well as the beginning of wine-growing and its
spread after the domestication of the grapevine, we are informed con-
cisely by EIEC: 644–646 and in detail by the monographs of McGovern,
Fleming and Katz 1996, McGovern 2003 with further references. A funda-
mental study on the origins and spread of wine, which ties together data
from as many sources as possible (linguistics, archaeology, literature), has
recently been provided by the as yet unpublished Ph.D. thesis of Luke
Gorton (Gorton 2014) and an article based on it (Gorton 2017). Further
references to historico-cultural, philological, and linguistic treatments
are to be found in Aspesi 2013, Brogyanyi and Lipp 2016 and the compre-
hensive etymological lemma on the Hittite word for ‘wine; grapevine’ in
HEG IV: 556–564.
1 The Anatolian Evidence
1.1
Hittite u̯ ii̯an(a)- c. ‘wine; grapevine’ (written mostly as the Sumerogram
GEŠTIN ‘wine’ or GIŠGEŠTIN beside its simplified variant GEŠTIN ‘grapevine’
with or without phonetic complements) is to be regarded as the continuant of
the Proto-Anatolian form *u̯ íi̯on- < Pre-Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íh1-on- (*/h1/ with-
out vowel coloration, i.e. without oral constriction, therefore probably articu-
lated as a glottal fricative [h] as in German Haus, English house).

The Word for wine 197
According to Kloekhorst (2008: 1012), the Hittite form represents an original

n-stem u̯ ii̯an- matching Hieroglyphic Luwian u̯ ii̯an-i-, u̯ in-i- c. ‘grapevine’ and
the base of the corresponding adjective Cuneiform Luwian u̯ in-ii̯a- (see below
§1.2), which display apophony of the athematic stem (no vowel breaking, see
below §7.3), and there is no clear evidence for a thematic a-stem in Anatolian.
In fact, within the Hittite paradigm itself, practically all attested forms with
phonetic complements or in phonetic spelling (except for the instr.sg. ú-i-i̯a-
an-ta in fragmentary context, see below) are ambiguous as to their stem forma-
tion, as can be seen in the following sample (for the Hittite attestations in their
context, see HEG IV: 557–558 with further references):
acc.sg. ú-i-i̯a-na-an = /u̯ ii̯anan/ ‘wine’ (KBo xii 126+ i 69 [MH/MS]) in purely
phonetic spelling besides GEŠTIN-na-an ‘wine’ (KUB xxxvi 110 Rs. 7 [OS]; KBo
xvii 11 + Rs. iv 23 [OS]; KUB lvi 50 ii 2 [NH]), GEŠTIN-an ‘wine’ (KUB xxix 1 iii
2 [OH/NS]; StBoT viii Rs. iii 14 [OH]; Otten and Souček 1969: 30–31), gen.sg.
GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-aš = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-aš ‘of the wine’ (in /u̯ ii̯anas ispanduzii̯assar/ ‘ves-
sel for the libation of the wine’ KUB lvi 50 ii 5 [NH]; GEŠTIN = u̯ i5-), GEŠTIN-aš
‘of the wine’ (KBo xxiv 34+ Vs. 23 [MH]), abl.sg. GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-az = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-az
‘with wine’ (KBo xiv 103 Rs. iv 11; GEŠTIN = u̯ i5-), instr.sg. GEŠTIN-ni-it =
/u̯ ii̯anid/ ‘with wine’ (KUB X 95 Vs. iii 6 [NH]), GEŠTIN-it ‘with wine’ (vsnf12,
21 Vs. iii 8 [NH]); in fragmentary context: instr.sg. GEŠTIN-ta šu-un[-na-aḫ-ḫé
‘and with wine fill[ed i’ (KBo xvii 4 iii 16’ [OH]; cf. Otten and Souček 1969: 34–
35, 129; -ta = /-t-a/ < */-d-ha/ with enclitic -a ‘and’ < *-ha = Pal., CLuw. -ḫa ‘and,
also’ < *-h2o ‘at that’); with clearly athematic stem formation, on the other
hand, instr.sg. ú-i-i̯a-an-ta = /u̯ ii̯an-d/ (IBoT iii 93 i 12), which for its fragmen-
tary context is unclear in meaning however: ‘with wine’ or ‘with grapevine’?
(on instr.sg. GEŠTIN-ta and ú-i-i̯a-an-ta cf. Oettinger 2003: 143–144 n. 4; for fur-
ther attestations of forms from the paradigm of the Hittite word for ‘grapevine;
wine’, see below §§1.1.3–4).
The Sumerogram GEŠTIN = /u̯ ii̯an-/ was also used by acrophony as a syl-
labic sign with the value <u̯ i->, which in the philological classification is
represented as the syllabogram u̯ i5-, e.g. pa-an-ga-u-u̯ i5 = pa-an-ga-u-i
dat.-loc. of panku- ‘assembly’ and na-a-u̯ i5 = na-a-ú-i ‘not yet’.
Cf. silvestri 1974: 266 with n. 1, rüster and neu 1989: 153–154 Nr. 131, hoffner
and melchert 2008: 21
For the shape of the instrumental ending, cf. athematic Hitt. genu- ntr.
‘knee’ (OHitt.+ nom.acc. gēnu, gen. gēnuu̯ aš ← PIE *ǵón-u/*ǵén-u- → *ǵn-
éu̯ -) with instr. OHitt. genut, ganut; Hitt. keššar-/kišr-/kiššer- c. → ntr.
‘hand’ (< *ǵʰés-or-/obl. *ǵʰes-r-́ ← PIE loc. *ǵʰes-ér from root noun

198 Lipp
*ǵhós-/*ǵhés- ‘hand’ [Neri 2013: 195–196, 200]; nom. OHitt. keššar < *ǵʰés-
ōr and remodelled kišširaš etc., Gr. χείρ f. < obl. *ǵʰes-r-) with instr. OHitt.
kiššarat, MHitt. kiššarta = /gisar-d/, MHitt. kiššarit, kišrīt; and Hitt.
išḫiman-/išḫimen- c. ‘cord, rope’ (< *sh2i-món-/obl. *sh2i-mén- ← PIE
*sh2éi̯-mon-/obl. *sh2i-mén-; nom. OHitt. isḫimāš < *sh2i-mṓ+s ← PIE
*sh2éi̯-mō(n) vs. later remodelled nom. išḫimanaš; see below §§1.1.3, 7.4)
with instr. OHitt.+ išḫimanta = /isḫiman-d/, MHitt. išḫimanit as against
thematic šākuu̯ a coll.pl. ‘eyes’ with instr. šākuu̯ at, šakuit and secondarily
thematic antuḫša- ‘human being, man’ with instr. antuḫšet.
On the Hittite paradigm forms see hoffner and melchert 2008: 13, 77, 79–80,
101, 111–112, 115–116; on the genesis of the athematic instrumental ending /-d/, /-id/
see melchert and oettinger 2009
1.1.1
H.C. Melchert (p.c.) assumes, however, that, corresponding to Luwian /u̯ ii̯an-ī-/,
/u̯ ī̆n-ī-/ ‘grapevine’ from athematic *u̯ ii̯an- with a further derivative /u̯ in-ī-/ for
the designation of ‘wine’ in Hier.Luw. (continuing the affiliation adjective u̯ in-
ii̯a- ‘pertaining to a grapevine’ as attested in Cun.Luw.; see below §1.2), in Hit-
tite the athematic stem u̯ ii̯an- was limited to the designation of the ‘grapevine’,
which was rendered by the Sumerogram GIŠGEŠTIN or simplified GEŠTIN
‘grapevine’, and that for the designation of ‘wine’, rendered by the Sumerogram
GEŠTIN ‘wine’, Hittite used a descriptively thematic hypostasis u̯ ii̯an-a-*,
which was based on the athematic stem and thus denoted *‘drink from the
grapevine’; this hypostasis would then underlie the attested inflectional forms
for ‘wine’, which are ambiguous as to their stem formation like the afore-
mentioned forms, e.g. gen.sg. GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-aš = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-aš ‘of wine’. Accord-
ing to Melchert’s analysis, a hypothetical nom.sg. Hitt. */u̯ ii̯an-a-s/ ‘wine’ would
be a hypostasis of the gen. /u̯ ii̯an-as/ ‘(that) of the grapevine’, which belongs to
the athematic paradigm of /u̯ ii̯an-/ ‘grapevine’ (for this analysis, see Gorton
2014 with n. 91, 2017: 7–8). This explanation would account for the formation in
question, because the mechanism of forming a hypostasis from the genitive
was productive in Hittite, cf. u̯ aštul ntr. ‘sin’ with gen. u̯ aštulaš ‘(the one) of the
sin’ = ‘the sinner’, tai̯azil ntr. ‘theft’ with gen. tai̯azilaš ‘(the one) of the theft’ =
‘the thief’ (cf. Friedrich 1974: 123, Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 256, Puhvel
2012).
1.1.2
In fact, for finding out the underlying stem class of the word for ‘wine’ and
‘grapevine’ we have only the attestation of a clearly athematic instrumental
form in fragmentary context, that is ú-i-i̯a-an-ta (see above §1.1). But as its

meaning is unclear from the context, it therefore does not tell us if the athe-
matic stem u̯ ii̯an- also had the meaning ‘wine’ beside ‘grapevine’.
For a descriptively thematic stem *u̯ ii̯an-a- ‘wine’ as base of a derivational
form, one could perhaps adduce the Anatolian toponym /u̯ ii̯ana-u̯ anta-/ (syn-
chronically understandable as *u̯ ii̯ana-u̯ ant- ‘abundant in wine’), which in the
Hittite transmission appears as URUu̯ i5-i̯a-na-u̯ a-an-da KBo iv 3 1 18 (in the con-
tract between the Hittite king Muršiliš ii and Kupanta-dKAL, king of the Luvi-
an states Mira and Kuu̯ alii̯a), URUu̯ i5-i̯a-na-u-u̯ a-an-ta (Brandenstein 1943: 14,
53–54, Text 2 Vs. ii 1 [Text 2 = vat 6688 + Bo 2496]), URUu̯ i5-i̯a-na-u̯ a-an[-ta-
aš] KUB xxvi 43 1 15 (in the royal decree by Tudḫalii̯aš iv and Puduḫepa, be-
side the variant given below). In the classical epoch, this toponym has a cor-
respondence in the name of the Lycian city of Οἰνόανδα (ntr.pl.) = Oenianda in
the upper Xanthos valley (Strabo xiii 631; Ptolemy, Geog. v 3,6; Pliny, Nat. Hist.
v 101) and Oeniandos, later called Epiphania, in southeast Cilicia (Pliny, Nat.
Hist. v 93). As in the Greek version there is an adaption to the thematic noun
οἶνος ‘wine’, one cannot decide on this evidence if the Anatolian base word had
a final stem vowel or not. But the use of the syllabogram <-na-> instead of <-nu-
> before <-u̯ a-> or <(-u)-u̯ a-> shows that there is a real a-vowel after the pre-
ceding /n/ and that therefore the following /u̯ / is intervocalic, a fact which can
be expressed orthographically by the use of an additional vowel syllabogram,
thus <-na-u-u̯ a-> besides <-na-u̯ a-> to render a sequence /-nau̯ a-/ (for this or-
thographic usage, cf. Kimball 1999: 105).
On the other hand, there are indeed Hittite versions of this toponym with-
out a final a-vowel of the derivational base, i.e. /u̯ ii̯an-u̯ anta-/ attested in u̯ i5-i̯a-
nu-an-ta-aš KBo ii 7 1 18, and /u̯ in-u̯ anta-/ = u̯ i5-nu-u̯ a-an-ta-aš KUB xxvi 50 1
4 (in the royal decree by Tudḫalii̯aš iv and Puduḫepa, beside the variant given
above), ú-i-nu-an-da KBo xvii 103 1 16, 17. These forms continue the possessive
formations *u̯ ii̯an-u̯ ant- and *u̯ in-u̯ ant- ‘abundant in grapevine/ vine-stocks’
based on athematic *u̯ ii̯an-/*u̯ īn- ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ as reflected by Luwi-
an (Hieroglyphic Luwian u̯ ii̯an-i-, u̯ in-i- c. ‘grapevine, vine-stock’, Cuneiform
Luwian u̯ in-ii̯a- adj. ‘pertaining to a grapevine’; see below §1.2). The variant
/u̯ ii̯ana-u̯ anta-/ might thus be a remodelling of these primary forms under the
influence of an existing thematic noun *u̯ ii̯an-a- ‘wine’, whereas Οἰνόανδα, the
epichoric form of classical times, might be a Greek adaption of /u̯ in-u̯ anta-/
(derived from athematic *u̯ īn- ‘grapevine’) with u̯ being rendered by Gr. <o> in
the absence of /u̯ / in Greek. As for Oeniandos, this has been supposed to be
based on Hitt.-Luw. u̯ inii̯ant- as a toponym with a different formation meaning
originally *‘wine, must, grape juice’ (cf. Neumann 1962: 208, 211; for the forma-
tion, see below §1.1.5), but it has to be considered that also Οἰνόανδα shows the
variant Oenianda in Latin rendering with the vowel -i- perhaps as in

200 Lipp
compounds. (For the analysis of the variants, see Silvestri 1974: 272–273, 274;
for the attestations id. 269–271 [Cuneiform], 272–273 [classical] on the basis of
Laroche 1961: 61; for the Cuneiform attestations, cf. del Monte and Tischler
1978: 482–483, HEG IV: 560 with further refs.; for the attestation and localiza-
tion of the respective Anatolian toponyms in classical times, cf. Zgusta 1984:
431–432 with further refs.; and for the identification of Hieroglyphic Luwian
(REGIO)VITIS ‘vine-stock country’ with the toponym /u̯ ii̯an(a)u̯ anta-/, see
Poetto 1993: 48–49, 80 with n. 193 and further refs., Hawkins 1995: 29,
54–55, 78.)
1.1.3
On the other hand, one also has to consider the possibility of the occurrence of
a secondary thematic stem in -a-, which is neither conditioned by derivation
nor hypostasis, but rather due to late paradigmatic remodelling of an athemat-
ic stem. For Old Hittite, one can expect a primary athematic nom.sg. */u̯ ii̯as/ or
*/u̯ ii̯ās/ (< Pre-Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íh1-ō+s or *u̯ ih1-ṓ+s ← PIE nom.sg. *u̯ éi̯h1-ō(n)
beside acc.sg. *u̯ ei̯h1-ón- with accent shift according to the *ku̯ etu̯ óres rule, and
obl. *u̯ ih1-n-́; for the reconstruction of the stem formation and its apophony,
see below §§6.1, 7.1, 7.4, 9.1). Within the inner history of Hittite, this form could
have been replaced by a descriptively thematic nom.sg. */u̯ ii̯an-a-s/ back-
formed in analogy to acc.sg. GEŠTIN-na-an = /u̯ ii̯an-an/ etc.; cf. the n-stem
išḫiman- c. ‘cord, rope’ with nom.sg. OHitt. išḫimāš (< *sh2i-mṓ+s = OSax. sīmo,
OE sīma ‘rope’ < Pre-Proto-Germanic *sih2-mō̃ ← PIE *sh2éi̯-mō(n)/obl. *sh2i-
mén-) and its younger remodelling into nom.sg. Hitt. išḫimanaš in analogy to
acc.sg. išḫimanan (< *sh2i-món- ← PIE *sh2ei̯-món- with accent shift by the
“ku̯ etu̯ óres rule”, see below §7.4; for the paradigm, cf. Harðarson 1987: 122, Hoffner
and Melchert 2008: 111). And there is indeed an Old Hittite form GEŠTIN-aš in
the meaning ‘grapevine, vine-stock’, which can either be interpreted as nom.sg.
*/u̯ ii̯as/ or */u̯ ii̯ās/ (from athematic /u̯ ii̯an-/) or */u̯ ii̯an-a-s/ (backformation
from the athematic acc.sg. /u̯ ii̯an-an/ etc.) or as gen.sg. */u̯ ii̯an-as/ (from athe-
matic /u̯ ii̯an-/): n=ašta anda ḫalkiaš dGÌR-aš G[EŠ]TIN-aš kitta ‘and in it (i.e.
in the fleece) lies/is put the field god of the grain and (of) the vine-stock’ (KUB
xvii 10 iv 30 [OH/MS]; cf. HEG IV: 557–558).
Thus, even if a Hitt. nom.sg. of the form */u̯ ii̯an-a-s/ in the meaning ‘wine’
were unambigously attested, we still could not tell if this formation is merely a
secondary inner-Hittite remodelling within the paradigm of an athematic
stem u̯ ii̯an- ‘wine ← grapevine’ showing a metonymic semantic shift (cf. Akkad.
karānu ‘grape, grapevine; wine’; see below §11), or if it continues a Pre-Hittite
hypostasis *u̯ ii̯an-a-s ‘wine’ = ‘drink from the grapevine’, which arose by reanal-
ysis of the athematic gen.sg. /u̯ ii̯an-as/ ‘(that) of the grapevine’ (see above

§1.1.1). In this case, we are therefore confronted with a heuristic dilemma and
can only say that in Hittite the existence of a distinct hypostasized a-stem
*u̯ ii̯an-a- meaning ‘wine’ beside an n-stem u̯ ii̯an- meaning ‘grapevine’ is possi-
ble and inferable with some plausibility, but not provable [so also L. Gorton per
litteras].
1.1.4
Nom.sg. Hitt. GEŠTIN-iš = /u̯ ii̯an-i-s/ ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ appears as expres-
sion of a generic singular in the following passage of a New Hittite version of
an Old Hittite text (KBo vi 26 i 18–19; HEG IV: 558): takku GEŠTIN-iš
GIŠ
ḪAŠḪUR [GIŠḪAŠḪUR.KUR.RA našma GIŠŠ]ENNUR u̯ arāni ‘if the grape-
vine/vine-stock, the apple tree, the apricot tree or medlar tree burns down’.
Due to the fact that the Sumerograms in this passage do not show plural mark-
ers and the verb is in the singular (u̯ arāni ‘burns down’), it is likely that in the
series of plants mentioned each is enumerated in the generic singular; there-
fore it is less likely that GEŠTIN-iš is a form of the nom.pl. with the late New
Hittite ending -iš (for this ending, cf. Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 71 with refs.).
This i-stem formation meaning ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ is probably a late Hittite
borrowing or remodelling on the basis of Luwian /u̯ ii̯an-ī-s/ ‘grapevine, vine-
stock’, as attested by Hieroglyphic Luwian (‘VITIS’)wa/i-ia-ni-sa, with normal
Luw. ī-mutation in the genus commune (see below §1.2).
A clearly hybrid Hitt. i-stem formation like Hitt. GEŠTIN-iš, which was
triggered by the productive Luw. ī-mutation of Luwians speaking Hittite,
can also be seen in another NHitt. version of an OHitt. text, that is nom.
sg. antuu̯ aḫḫiš ‘human being’ as a remodelling of a clearly archaic form
antuu̯ aḫḫaš stemming from the OHitt. original (< nom.sg. PIE *en-dhu̯ éh2-
ōs from s-stem *en-dhu̯ éh2-os-/*en-dhuh2-s- ‘having breath in oneself’).
Already in the spoken language of the Middle Hittite epoch, this archaic
form was replaced with antuḫšaš by generalization of antuḫša- based on
the oblique stem as in OHitt. gen.sg. anduḫšaš (< *en-dhuh2-s-ós).
See rieken 1999: 191–192 with n. 884, kimball 1999: 184, hoffner and melchert
2008: 79–80 with n. 1
1.1.5
Luwian origin also has to be considered for the derivative Hitt. (d)u̯ inii̯ant- ‘(the
genius of the) grape juice, must’ < *u̯ inii̯-ant- ‘consisting of grape juice’ with
acc.sg. dú-i-ni-i̯a-an-ta-an (KUB lv 65 iv 16), ú-i-ni-i̯a-an-da-an (KUB xxv 37 iii
17. 19 [NH]; KUB xxv 37 iv 6 [NH]) = /u̯ inii̯ant-an/ because of the formation of
the base word corresponding to Hieroglyphic Luwian /u̯ inī-/ < *u̯ in-ii̯a- ‘wine,

202 Lipp
must, grape juice’ = ‘drink made from grapevine’, derived from u̯ ii̯an(-i)-, u̯ in(-i)-
‘grapevine’ (cf. Starke 1990: 381 n. 1378, Oettinger 2003: 143 with refs., HEG IV:
563–564 with text attestations; see below §1.2).
1.2
Hieroglyphic Luwian u̯ ii̯an-i-, u̯ in-i- c. ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ < Proto-Anatolian
*u̯ íi̯on-/loc. *u̯ ii̯én(-i) (é > Luw. a)/obl. *u̯ ī̆n- < Pre-Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íh1-on-/
loc. *u̯ ih1-én(-i)/obl. *u̯ ih1-n-: e.g. nom.sg. (‘vitis’)wa/i-ia-ni-sa = /u̯ ii̯an-ī-s/
(SULTANHAN §7), wa/i-ia-ni-sá (SULTANHAN §15), wa/i-ia-ni-sa (SULTAN-
HAN §23); acc.sg. (VITIS)wa/i-ni-na = /u̯ ī̆n-ī-n/ (KÖRKÜN §11), ?dat.-loc.sg.
wa/i-ia-ni-[x]-i = /u̯ ii̯an-i/? (KULULU 1 §8). In the nominative and accusative,
this original n-stem shows the Luwian enhancement of the stem by /-ī-/, which
is regular in the genus commune and is called ī-mutation. Due to the effect of
the widespread, but not pervasive Luwian contraction ii̯a > i (= /-ī-/ presum-
ably), which becomes more frequent in the 1st millenium bc (cf. Yakubovich
2015: 10 §5.2.1), some instances of Luw. u̯ in- as in the acc. /u̯ ī̆n-ī-n/ might go
back to the original strong stem u̯ ii̯an- as inferable for the acc. */u̯ ii̯an-ī-n/ be-
sides the attested nom. /u̯ ii̯an-ī-s/, but in other cases Luw. u̯ incan continue
the weak stem variant *u̯ ī̆n- < Pre-Proto-Anatolian *u̯ ih1-n-. A derivative of this
n-stem is attested in the form of the instr.sg. Hier.Luw. wa/i-ní-ti ‘with (mea-
sures of) wine’ (KARKAMIŠ A30h §3; for the semantic interpretation see
Hawkins 2000: 178, 468) = /u̯ inīdi/ < *u̯ inii̯adi with the Luwian contraction ii̯a >
i. Thus in the case of this Hieroglyphic Luwian form, we are dealing with a stem
/u̯ inī-/ < *u̯ in-ii̯a- (< *u̯ īn-ii̯ó-; for the respective contraction also in Luw. -ii̯a-
stems, cf. Yakubovich 2015: 13 §6.2) meaning ‘wine, must, grape juice’ = ‘drink
made from grapevine’ as a designation of affiliation derived from u̯ ii̯an(-i)-,
u̯ in(-i)- ‘grapevine’ (for this morphological and functional analysis based on a
suggestion by C. Melchert, see Gorton 2014 with nn. 89, 90; 2017: 6f.; see above
§1.1.1), like Cuneiform Luwian u̯ in-ii̯a- adj. ‘pertaining to a grapevine’: coll.pl.
ú-i-ni-i̯a = /u̯ inii̯a/ (KBo xiii 263,2; quantity of -ī̆- in /u̯ ī̆n-/ depending on the
position of the Anatolian accent). (For the attestations, cf. Starke 1990: 381 n.
1378, Melchert 1993: 269, Kloekhorst 2008: 1012, ACLT s.v. Hieroglyphic
wiyani(ya)-, HEG IV: 558–559.)
1.2.1
The usual designation for ‘wine’ in Luwian has a different etymological origin:
CLuw. ma-ad-du = /máddu/, HLuw. (VITIS)ma-tú-sà, ma-tu-sà = /máddu-sa/
ntr. ‘wine’ (Luwian gemination by fortition of a lenis after inherited *é in open
syllable by Lex Čop) < Proto-Anatolian *médu ‘sweet grape-juice’ < PIE *médh-
u- ‘honey, mead’ = Ved. mádhu- ‘sweet drink, honey’, Gr. μέθυ ‘intoxicating

drink, wine’, OHG metu ‘mead’, OCS medъ ‘honey’ etc. (cf. Starke 1990: 191 n.
624, HEG II: 165–166, Melchert 1993: 144–145, ACLT s.v. Hieroglyphic mattu-,
s.v. Cuneiform mattu-).
2 The Greek Evidence
Greek οἶνος m. ‘wine’ (Hom.Il.+), gen.sg. Cret. ϝοινο (Gortyn), Cypr. wo-i-no =
/u̯ oi̯nō/, and already Mycenaean wo-no = /u̯ oi̯nos/, Myc. ox name wo-no-qo-so =
/u̯ oinoku̯ -orsos/ *‘having wine-coloured buttocks’ (for the Mycenaean evi-
dence, see DMic. ii 442–445; cf. Hom. οἶνοπ- ‘wine-coloured, dark red’ < *u̯ oi̯n-
oku̯ - ‘wine-coloured, having the appearance of wine’) < Proto-Gr. *u̯ ói̯no- < PIE
*u̯ ói̯(h1)-no- ‘wine’ (on the formation, see below §§10.2.1–2), from which the
collective Gk. οἴνη f. ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ (Hesiod+) < *u̯ oi̯nā (in the func-
tional meaning *‘wine plant’) is derived (cf. ἐλαίᾱ, Ιon. -η ‘olive-tree, olive’ :
ἔλαιον ‘olive oil’). Beside these forms, there were semantically corresponding
continuants of *médh-u- ‘honey, mead’ in Myc. me-tu-wo ne-wo gen. ‘in the sea-
son of the new wine’, Gr. Hom.Il.+ μέθυ ‘intoxicating drink, wine’, which in ev-
eryday language soon fell out of use and survived only as an archaic word in
later poetry (for the Myc. evidence, see DMic. I 446; for the lexeme, see above
§1.2.1 and below §5.6.2).
Context-sensitive laryngeal loss by Saussure’s Law: oRH.C > oR.C. Cf.

*tórh1-mo- ‘hole’ > *tór-mo- > Gr. τόρμος ‘hole’ against *térh1-tro- > Gr.
τέρετρον ‘driller’; *sólh2-u̯ o- ‘whole, entire, undamaged’ > *sól-u̯ o- > Gr.
ὅλος, Ved. sárva- against *sl ̥h2-eu̯ -ó- > Proto-Italic *salau̯ o- > Lat. salvus,
Osc. σαλαϝσ, *sl ̥h2-i- ‘prosperity’ > CLuw. šalḫi-tti- (for further specifica-
tion of Saussure’s law, see below §3).
As etymologically related formations, note also the n-stem Gr. υἱήν, ἢ υἱόν· τὴν
ἄμπελον (Hesychius) = *ϝιήν ‘grapevine, vine-stock’ < Proto-Gr. *u̯ ii̯ḗn < PIE *u̯ ih1-
ḗn(ontheformation,seebelow§8),andtheu-stemMyc.we-je-we=/u̯ ei̯-eu̯ -es/nom.
pl. f. ‘(vine) shoots, sprouts’ (DMic. ii 418) from *u̯ éi̯h1-u-/*u̯ ih1-éu̯ - > *u̯ éi̯u-/
*u̯ ii̯éu̯ - (for the analysis as feminine u-stem with apophonically conditioned
suffix allomorph *-éu̯ - and not as masculine eu̯ -stem, cf. Perpillou 2012: 111) be-
side *u̯ éi̯-tu-/*u̯ i-téu̯ - ‘(willow) rod’ (with secondary root apophony) > Hom.+
ἴτυς [ῐ] ‘rim of a wheel/shield’ (Aeolic *ϝίτυς, acc. to Terentianus Maurus 658: vi-
tym gens Aeoli; cf. Lat. vītis ‘tendril, grapevine’), and derived Hom.+ ἰτέη [ῐ], Att.
ἰτέα [ῑ] ‘willow; wicker shield’ (γιτέα [= *ϝιτέα]· ἰτέα Hesychius), Εἰτέα Attic deme
name (for the reshaped apophony, cf. Neri 2017: 324–325; see below §6.1).

204 Lipp
3 The Armenian Evidence
Armenian gini ‘wine’ (gen. ginwoy = [ginu̯ o] with -u̯ o < *-i̯ói̯o < *-ii̯óhi̯o under-
going pretonic syncope of unaccented *i due to the prehistoric penultima
accent) < (Pre-)Proto-Armenian *gu̯ īníi̯o < *u̯ ēnii̯on < *u̯ oi̯n-ii̯onm ntr. < *u̯ oi̯n-
ih2ó- as adjective of affiliation on the basis of the PIE noun *u̯ ói̯(h1)-n-o- >
*u̯ ói̯n-o-, which is continued by Gr. (ϝ)οἶνος ‘wine’ (on the development and
paradigm of Arm. gini, cf. Schmitt 1981: 43, 52, 68, 69, 71, 95, Matzinger 2005: 20,
66–67 with n. 304, and Olsen 1999: 439–440, who explains the Arm. vacillation
between wo- and ea-stem on the basis of an old neuter). For derivational rea-
sons, the Arm. form is less likely developed from (*u̯ ēnii̯o- <) *u̯ ei̯n-ii̯o- ← PIE
*u̯ ei̯(h1)-no-. (For further references, cf. Martirosyan 2010: 214–215; on alterna-
tive derivations, see below §10.2.2.)
Context-sensitive laryngeal loss by Saussure’s Law: oRH.C > oR.C or .HRo

> Ro with tautosyllabic reduction according to Neri (2003: 32 n. 69). Cf.
*h2u̯ ors-ó-/-éh2- ‘drop; dribble, rain’ > PIE *u̯ ors-ó- resp. *u̯ ors-éh2- > Hitt.
u̯ arša- ‘fog, rain’, Luw. u̯ arša- ‘drop’, causative *h2u̯ ors-éi̯e/o- ‘to drop, let
rain’ > PIE *u̯ ors-éi̯e/o- > Gr. οὐρέω ‘urinate’ vs. PIE *h2u̯ érs-h2/-éh2- ‘drop’
> Gr. *au̯ ers-a-/-ā- > Ion.Att. ἕρση, Hom. also ἐέρση, Sappho ἐέρσᾱ, Pi. ἔερσᾰ,
Papyrus ἀέρση, Cret. ἄερσᾰ (Hsch.) ‘dew(drop)’. For laryngeal loss also in a
sequence with post-resonantic thematic vowel -o- per Neri (2003: 285 n.
949; 302 n. 1025), cf. *peth1- ‘to fall’ in Gr.Hom. πεπτεώς ‘ducked, crouching’
< perf.ptc. *pé-pth1-u̯ os- vs. the verbal noun *póth1-mo- ‘fall(ing)’ = *pót.
h1mo- > PIE *pót.mo- > Gr. πότμος ‘lot, destiny’.
Cf. lipp 2009b: 417 n. 141; 454, 456, 446 n. 222 and 340–341 n. 66 with further refs. to
Saussure’s Law
The sound shape of (Pre-)Proto-Armenian *gu̯ īníi̯o (gen. *gu̯ īni̯ói̯o) is to be pre-
supposed for the borrowing into Proto-Kartvelian (= South Caucasian) with
*γu̯ ini̯o ‘wine’ > Georgian γvino, Old Georgian nom. γwnoy, γwinoy = /γu̯ ino-i̯/,
Mingrelian gvini (with different adaptions of final *-i̯o [Sergio Neri, p.c.]). (For
alternative interpretations and specifications, cf. Gippert 1994: 117–121; on the
origin of vine cultivation in the sub-Caucasian area of Georgia and the Urarte-
an-Armenian highland, cf. Greppin 2008.)
4 The Albanian Evidence
Albanian Tosk. vérë, Geg. vênë ‘wine’ < *ven- < Proto-Albanian *u̯ oi̯nā ← PIE
*u̯ ói̯(h1)-n-o- (see Demiraj 1997: 414).

5 The Italic Evidence
5.1
Latin vīnum ntr. ‘wine’ (since Livius Andronicus, Ennius, Plautus, Cato), Falis-
can acc.sg. UI[NO]M [?] = /vīnom/ (ca. 600 bc; but interpretation doubtful, see
below §5.2), UINO = /vīnom/ (4th c. bc), Umbrian acc.sg. VINU = /vīnom/, abl.
sg. VINU = /vīnu/ (TI 3rd c. bc), uinu (TI 2nd c. bc) ‘wine’, Volscian abl.sg. uinu
(ca. 300 bc) ‘wine’.
5.1.1
Attestations from the neighbouring non-Italic languages of Ancient Italy:
Etruscan VINUN (Tarquinia, end of 6th c. bc), VINỤ[M:] (Populonia, second
half of 5th c. bc), VINUM (Liber Linteus and Ager Saenensis, 2nd c. bc) ‘wine’
(ET I p. 107; ii pp. 1–8, 67, 136, 167; Agostiniani 1998: 1–2; for the question wheth-
er Italic *u̯ īnom was borrowed into Etruscan or vice versa, see below §§5.6,
5.6.1–2); (Celtic) Lepontic VINOM (Ornavasso, 2nd c. bc; interpretation uncer-
tain: ‘wine’ according to Lejeune 1987: 502–509, followed by Solinas 1995: 375,
Uhlich 2007: 407, or ‘white, shining’ < *u̯ indo- = Gaulish vindo- according to
Tibiletti Bruno 1981: 163–164, cf. Agostiniani 1998: 2 n. 10; if Lep. VINOM means
‘wine’, then it might be borrowed from Etruscan or an Italic language).
5.2
First attestations in Italic: Faliscan LF 1 = LDIA: 525–526 (ca. 600 bc):
UI[NO]M:P[ORE]KADEUIOS ‘vinum porrigat Euius (= Bacchus)’ (‘Evius shall
procure the wine’), LF 5 = LDIA: 529–530 (4th c. bc) i: FOIED.UINO.PIPAFO.
CRA.CAREFO ii: FOIED.UINO.PAFO.CRA.CAREFO ‘hodie vinum bibam, cras
carebo’ (‘today I will drink wine, tomorrow I will be without’). According to the
new edition of the Faliscan inscriptions by Bakkum, the traditional restitution
of the reading UI[NO]M in LF 1 = EF 1 is doubtful (Bakkum 2009: 199, 393–406);
assured is thus only UINO in LF 5 = MF 59, 60 (Bakkum 2009: 199, 434–435).
First attestations in Etruscan (ET ii pp. 67, 136): Ta 0.6 (vas, end of 6th c. BC)
VINUN ‘vinum’; Po 4.3 (cippus, second half of 5th c. BC) FASLE:VINỤ[M:]
M[…]AŚ ‘vas / libatio vinum…’.
5.3
Probable cognates of Lat. vīnum, Umbr. VINU etc. are to be found in the per-
sonal names Pre-Samnite Ps 3 nom. VINUXS = /u̯ īnọ̄χs/, patronymic dat. VINI-
CIIU = [u̯ īnikii̯ọ̄] (Campania, 500–450 bc; the Pre-Samnite inscriptions from
Campania, Lucania and Bruttium convey a dialect form close to that of South
Picene and date back to the period before the invasion of the area by the Sam-
nites beginning in 440 bc; see ST pp. 5–6), Oscan Po 3 gentile name nom.

206 Lipp
VIÍNIKIÍS = [u̯ īniki̯ẹs] with dissimilation from *-i̯is < *-ii̯īs < *-ii̯-ii̯o-s as deriva-
tive of the patronymic (cf. Meiser 1986: 62–66), adapted as Lat. Vīnucius,
Vīnicius, Etr. gen. Vinucenas (for the Sabellic attestations cf. ST pp. 71, 104; for
the corresponding forms in Latin and Etruscan cf. Schulze 1966: 110 n. 3; 380)
and also perhaps as Faliscan uịnụ[cio] (Bakkum 2009: 276, 556). These forms
can be analysed as continuants or derivatives in *-ii̯ó- (< *-ih2ó-) of the com-
pound *u̯ īn-oku̯ -, nom.sg. *u̯ īn-ōku̯ -s ‘wine-coloured, having the appearance of
wine’ (cf. Goth. wein-nas m. a-stem ‘having a nose (red) of wine’; Casaretto
2004: 58), thus *u̯ īnok-ii̯o- > Pre-Samnite VINICIIU with delabialisation by
analogy to VINUXS = /u̯ īnọ̄χs/ < *u̯ īnōks. For the apophony of the second com-
pound member, cf. etymologically related Gr. oἰνώψ Soph., οἶνοπ- Hom. ‘wine-
colored, dark red’ < *u̯ oi̯n-ōku̯ -s, *u̯ oi̯n-oku̯ -, also used as personal name in
Hom.Od. 21,144 Οἶνοπος υἱός ‘son of Oinops’ (see above §2; formation like Lat.
atrōx, -ōcis ‘terrible in appearance, dreadful’, but without generalisation of the
lengthened grade in Pre-Samnite, pace Meiser 1986: 172 n. 3). The stem displays
the usual analogical lengthened grade in the nom.sg. of pie monosyllabic root
nouns and shows the effect of the preconsonantal Italic delabialisation of *ku̯
as in the development of nom.sg. PIE *u̯ ōku̯ -s ‘voice’ (Ved. vāḱ , Av. vāxš vs. Gr.
acc. ὄπ-α) > Italic *u̯ ōks > Lat. vōx, which led to an analogical delabialization
in the derived denominative *u̯ oku̯ -ā-i̯e/o- ‘to call’ > Italic *u̯ oku̯ āe/o- →
*u̯ okāe/o- > Lat. vocō, -āre, Umbr. subocau ‘invoco’ (for the delabialisation in
Sabellic, cf. Buck 1928: 95). In contrast to the Etruscan gentile name Vinacna
(Tarquinii, 6th c. bc), which is derived from the Sabellic stem in the shape
*u̯ īnok-, the Pre-Samnite form VINICIIU < *u̯ īnok-ii̯o- with medial -i- beside
VINUXS < *u̯ īnōk-s either shows the effect of a vowel weakening in medial syl-
lables or might have developed a context-sensitive anaptyctic vowel -i- after
the beginning of Sabellic vowel syncope in open medial syllables like the later
Oscan form VIÍNIKIÍS, but the variants with medial -u- such as Lat. Vīnucius,
Falisc. uịnụ[cio], Etr. Vinucenas rather speak in favour of the first solution, i.e.
for vowel weakening (for cases of vowel weakening in Sabellic instead of syn-
cope, cf. Buck 1928: 55–57, Meiser 1986: 203, 267–272, Lipp 2009b: 131–132; for
vowel anaptyxis in Oscan, cf. Buck 1928: 50–53).
On the other hand, there has been the attempt by Kölligan (2013: 120–121) to
derive the aforementioned Sabellic names from a compound form *u̯ ī-noku̯ -o-
‘who harms/kills by force’, connecting it with Lat. vīs f., abl. vī ‘force’ and Lat.
noxa ‘crime, damage’, nex ‘death’ on the base of an alleged root *neku̯ - ‘to disap-
pear; perish’. But in view of the etymologically corresponding forms Lat. noceō,
-ēre ‘to harm’ = Ved. nāśáyati ‘makes disappear, destroys’ etc., one has to posit
the PIE root as *neḱ- ‘to disappear, get lost’ (e.g. Ved. subj.aor. naśanti ‘will
get lost’; LIV2: 451–452), which would entail an Italic compound form

*u̯ ī-nok-o- ‘having/provoking disappearance/harm by force’, without there be-

ing however other verbal governing compounds in *-nok-o- (as against the at-
tested formations Lat. nocuus ‘harmful’, innocuus ‘harmless, innocent’, noxius
‘harmful’) or fixed parallel phrasal collocations with Lat. vī ‘by force’.
5.4
The forms of the word for ‘wine’ in the individual Italic languages can only go
back to Proto-Italic *u̯ īnom, which would plausibly continue a morphologi-
cally regular IE ablaut form *u̯ ih1-n-o- (with zero grade of the root as Hitt.
u̯ ii̯an- ‘wine; grapevine’, HLuv. u̯ ii̯ani-, u̯ ini- ‘grapevine’ < *u̯ ih1-on-/*u̯ ih1-n-
against o-grade in Gr. (ϝ)οἶνος < *u̯ ói̯(h1)-n-o-).
On the other hand, the following derivation is to be rejected and only pre-
sented argumenti causa: it starts from a presumed Italic *u̯ oi̯nom as continuant
of PIE *u̯ ói̯(h1)-n-o- or borrowing of Gr. u̯ oi̯non*, acc.sg. of (ϝ)οἶνος m. (such a
borrowing has been assumed by Szemerényi 1989: 166, Sihler 1995: 53): Italic
*u̯ oi̯nom > early Lat. *u̯ einom (4th–3rd c. bc) > *u̯ ẹ̄nom (3rd c. bc) > vīnum (ca.
200 bc; *u̯ oi̯- > *u̯ ei̯- > *u̯ ẹ̄- as in PIE *u̯ ói̯ḱ-o- ‘settlement’ [= Gr. (ϝ)οἶκος ‘house’] >
Italic *u̯ oi̯ko- > early Lat. *u̯ ei̯ko- > OLat. /u̯ ẹ̄ko-/ in inscr. vecos, veicus > Lat.
vīcus ‘village’). Contrary to the actual evidence of the very early attested forms
Falisc. /vīnom/ (4th c. bc), Umbr. /vīnom/ (3rd c. bc+), which cannot be bor-
rowed from Latin, one would then expect as correspondences in Faliscan
*u̯ oi̯nom > *u̯ ōnom (cf. Falisc. LOIFIRTA > LOFERTA = Lat. līberta), in Oscan
*u̯ oi̯nom, and in Umbrian *u̯ ōnom (cf. *moi̯ni- [= Goth. ga-mains ‘common’] >
Lat. com-mūnis, Osc. nom.sg.f. MÚÍNÍKÚ /moi̯nẹko/ ‘common’, Umbr. MUNEK-
LU /mōnẹklom/ ‘collection, offering’ < *moi̯ni-tlo-, nomen instrumenti from the
denominal verb *moi̯ni-i̯e/o- ‘to make common’).
5.5
The Faliscan and Umbrian forms are therefore incompatible with a phonologi-
cal derivation from older *u̯ oi̯nom (with Falisc. *u̯ oi̯nom, Falisc. Umbr. *u̯ ōnom
as expected phonetic outcomes instead of actually attested Falisc. /vīnom/,
Umbr. /vīnom/). In case of a development from Italic *u̯ oi̯nom, the Latin sound
shape vīnum would have developed too late (ca. 200 bc) and thus cannot be
the source for an early borrowing into Faliscan (UI[NO]M [?], ca. 600 bc,
UINO 4th c. bc), Etruscan (VINUN, end of 6th c. bc) and Umbrian (VINU, 3rd
c. bc with text tradition from 5th–4th c. bc). The Latin form vīnum phoneti-
cally matching Faliscan /vīnom/, Umbrian /vīnom/ hence cannot continue an
inherited form *u̯ oi̯nom or a loan form *u̯ oi̯nom from Greek acc.sg. /u̯ oi̯non/*,
which thus also cannot be the source of the other Italic forms. Therefore, the
individual Italic forms presuppose *u̯ īnom as common base form (see Blümel

208 Lipp
1972: 26, Beekes 1987: 22–23, Flobert 1994: 290–291, who exclude a representa-
tion of former *oi̯ or *ei̯ in the respective Italic forms; likewise Gorton 2017:
12–13).
5.6
On the other hand, Agostiniani (1998: 5–6; similarly Gérard 2009: 19–20, 21)
considers Etruscan VINUN, VINUM as a loan from Greek, being based on the
acc. Gr. u̯ oi̯non* and displaying an Etruscan sound substitution /u̯ i-/ < */u̯ ui̯-/ ←
Gr. /u̯ oi̯-/ similar to the process in the Etruscan name VILATAS ← Gr. Οἰλιάδᾱς
with resyllabification of initial /u̯ i-/ = <vi-> < */ui̯-/ ← Gr. /oi̯-/. However, in view
of the incomplete match in the phonetic pattern of the compared forms, de
Simone (2011: 476 with n. 17) is sceptical about Agostiniani’s loanword hypoth-
esis, which he also rejects for palaeobotanical and chronological reasons.
The Etruscan initial realization /u̯ i-/ = <vi-> < */ui̯-/ ← Gr. /oi̯-/ is ortho-
graphically and phonologically distinct from the medial representation
/ui̯/ = <ui> ← Gr. /oi̯/ as in Etr. TRUIA ← Gr. Τροία, Etr. ΦUINIS ← Gr. Φοῖνιξ;
the diphthong /ui̯/ also appears in genuine Etruscan words like PAPUI,
loc. in -i of the month name.
In contrast to Etruscan VINUM with normal Etruscan substitution of
the final nasal by -m as in PRUXUM ← Gr. acc. πρόχουν from πρόχους ‘jug’,
Etruscan VINUN shows a rare final -n as in the vessel designation
QUTUN (already attested in the 7th c. bc) beside the synchronically
more frequent variant QUTUM ← Gr. κώθων.
Cf. agostiniani 1998: 1–2
According to Agostiniani (1998: 6–7, 12–13 with n. 76), the Etruscan form
VINUM spread together with the development of viniculture all over Italy
from the end of the 8th century bc. In Agostiniani’s view, the Etruscan lexeme
VINUM = /u̯ inum/ was adapted within the individual Italic languages in the
shape */u̯ īnom/, the long vowel /ī/ being due to analogy of the semantically
related Italic *u̯ ītis > Lat. vītis ‘grapevine’. But within such a scenario, one could
also suppose that with regard to duration in accented position or to the degree
of opening, the vowel phoneme /i/ of Etruscan (which lacked a phonological
opposition of vowel quantity) had a closer phonetic resemblance to the Italic
long vowel /ī/ than to the Italic short vowel /i/, which in contrast had a rather
open articulation; cf. Lat. Catamītus ← Etruscan Catmite ← Gr. Γανυμήδης. Thus
in Agostiniani’s view, Latin vīnum, Faliscan /vīnom/, Umbrian /vīnom/ < *u̯ īnom
do not continue an inherited Italic form, but are loans from Etruscan VINUM,
which for its part must be borrowed from Greek.

5.6.1
Against this scenario, one might object that *u̯ īno- is already attested from 500
bc (i.e. within the oldest text layer) as a compound member in ancient Italic
names like Pre-Samnite VINUXS (< *u̯ īn-ōk(u̯ )-s ‘wine-coloured, having the ap-
pearance of wine’) and its derivative Pre-Samnite VINICIIU, Osc. VIÍNIKIÍS
(< *u̯ īn-ok(u̯)-ii̯o-) → Lat. Vīnicius etc. (see above §5.3). This means that in the
Italic area the use of *u̯ īno- as an appellative for ‘wine’ must be older by several
centuries.
In favour of the borrowing of the word for ‘wine’ from Italic into Etruscan,
and not vice versa, one can also point to FUFLUNS, the Etruscan name of the
wine god Bacchus, which was probably borrowed from Italic, as, contrary to
unaccented word-internal vowels, in this form the vowel of the second syllable
is never syncopated, therefore probably reflecting a long vowel of Sabellic ori-
gin (because of the phonetic length of accented vowels in native Etruscan
words, the last word-internal long vowel of a form borrowed from a foreign
language was evidently interpreted by Etruscan speakers as being accented
and therefore did not undergo syncope, cf. Rix 2008: 147). The following deriva-
tions have been proposed: Etruscan FUFLUNS ← (dissimilation) *fluflū́ns ←
Italic *flōβlōno- < *bʰlōdʰlōno- < transposite *bʰleh3-dʰlo-h3no- ‘master of the
garden’ from *bʰléh3-dʰlo- ‘place of blossom, garden’ related to Lat. flōs m. ‘blos-
som’ < *bʰléh3-os- (analysis by Meiser 1986: 9, 215–216); or rather, also based on
*bʰleh3- ‘to blossom’, the following better founded alternative (based on Rix
1998 with modification): noun *bʰe-bʰl(h3)-o- ‘what is blooming, sprouting’ =
‘vegetation; ivy’ (reduplicated form of the type *ku̯ e-ku̯ l(h1)-o- ‘what is turning’ =
‘wheel’) → transposite *bʰe-bʰl(h3)-o-h3no- ‘master of the vegetation / of ivy’ >
Italic *feβlōno- > Sabellic *foβlọ̄n(o)s (labial coloration e > o) > Palaeo-Umbrian
*foβlọ̄ns (with long vowel ọ̄) → Etruscan FUFLUNS = [fuflū́ns]. For the Com-
mon Italic coloration e > o between two tautosyllabic labials as in Sabellic
*pompe ‘five’ < *ku̯ énku̯ e, cf. the comparable reduplicated form Lat. populus
‘people’ ← ‘army’, Umbr. poplo ‘army’ < *peplo- < *pe-pl(h1)-o- ‘group of lance
throwers’ = ‘group brandishing lances’ from *pelh1- ‘to swing, brandish’ (etymol-
ogy per Rix 1995: 82; cf. Gr. πόλεμος ‘war, fight’ < *pól(h1)-mo- ‘the brandishing of
lances’). For the borrowing process of a morphonologically corresponding for-
mation into Etruscan, cf. the theonym Etruscan NEΘUNS ← Palaeo-Umbrian
*nehtūns < *neftūns (with long vowel ū) = Lat. Neptūnus < Italic *neptūno- <
transposite *nebʰ-tu-h3no- ‘master of the wet element / of the moisture’.
5.6.2
In contrast to vīnum, attested in Latin since Livius Andronicus, the archaic ex-
pression tēmētum (Old Latin and poetic) was a general term for an intoxicating

210 Lipp
drink, which was also used to refer to strong unmixed wine (also called merum
‘pure, unmixed wine’). Such a usage as a term for ‘wine’ is referred to by Paulus
ex Festo 501, 6 (L): temetum vinum, unde temulentia et temulentus. It does not
represent the old generic term for ‘wine’, however, as is also suggested by the
related adjectives tēmulentus ‘drunk’, abstēmius ‘sober, abstemious’ ← *abs
tēmō ‘without intoxication’ from *tēm-o- ‘intoxication, intoxicating substance’,
which continues a vr̥ddhi derivative *tēmH-ó- ‘characterized by fainting, lead-
ing to faint’ from *temH- ‘to faint, become dark’ (related to Vedic tām ́ yati
‘faints’ < *tḿ̥H-i̯e/o-; see de Vaan 2008: 609 and cf. LEW ii 657, DELL 679–680,
IEW 1063, LIV2: 624). That tēmētum could still be associated with abstēmius in
classical times is obvious not only from Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria I 7–9
(‘abstemius’, quia ex abstinentia temeti composita vox est), but also from the tes-
timony of Gellius, Noctes Atticae X 23, 1, according to which tēmētum is the
designation for ‘wine’ in the ancient language:
Qui de victu atque cultu populi Romani scripserunt, mulieres Romae atque
in Latio aetatem abstemias egisse, hoc est vino semper, quod ‘temetum’ pris-
ca lingua appellabatur, abstinuisse dicunt.
Those who have written about the diet and the way of life of the Roman
people, say that the women in Rome and Latium lived an abstemious life,
that is, they abstained permanently from wine, which in the ancient lan-
guage was called ‘temetum.
Contrary to Agostiniani’s reasoning (1998: 9), however, this need not imply that
tēmētum is the original designation for ‘wine’ in Latin and vīnum a term only
secondarily introduced from outside, because in the passage given the word
tēmētum was rather adduced for its antiquity and its apparent relationship to
abstēmius, but not because it was a designation used exclusively in former
times instead of the later current expression vīnum; and it has to be stresssed
that Lat. vīnum is already attested as early as Livius Andronicus, Ennius, Plau-
tus, and Cato, i.e. in the earliest layer of literary texts, and appears as a base in
old derivatives like vīnea f. ‘vineyard, rows of vine’, attested since the xii Tabu-
lae, Plautus, and Cato. Besides, the transmission of lexical antiquities certainly
does not go back to a time horizon beyond the 6th c. bc; in other words, it
cannot reflect an epoch in which the lexeme vīnum was not yet in existence in
the Italic languages. This reasoning is even consistent with Agostiniani’s own
analysis, according to which this lexeme spread from Etruscan as a loanword
within Italic, including Latino-Faliscan, from the end of the 8th c. bc (see
above §5.6). The situation might in some respect be comparable to Greek,

where both οἶνος ‘wine’ and μέθυ ‘intoxicating drink, wine’ were inherited and
already attested in Mycenaean and in both the Iliad and the Odyssey, but where
μέθυ had fallen out of use by the classical epoch (see above §2).
5.7
Not acceptable is the derivation by Gamkrelidze and Ivanov (1995: 557) of Lat.
vīnum from a supposedly inherited Italic form *u̯ ei̯no- < IE *u̯ ei̯(h1)-no-, be-
cause late Lat. ī (ca. 200 bc) < *ei̯ cannot be responsible for the attestations
with = /ī/ occurring in Ancient Italy since the middle of the first millenni-
um bc like Falisc. UINO etc. (see above §§5.1–2). Even if we assume an early
borrowing from Latin at the stage of an older phonetic shape *u̯ ei̯nom or start
from *u̯ ei̯nom as the Common Italic form underlying the attestations in the
individual Italic languages, in Faliscan, Umbrian and Volscian this form would
not lead to the attested form /vīnom/, but to *u̯ ēnom (cf. Falisc. hec = Lat. hīc,
OLat. heic < loc. *gʰei̯-ke, Umbr. eetu /ētu/ = Lat. ītō < imptv. *ei̯-tōd; see Beekes
1987: 22 with reference to Blümel 1972: 33–34 for the representation of diph-
thongs in the Italic languages).
5.8
As a result of the historically identifiable spread of viticulture to the North, Lat.
vīnum was borrowed in turn into Celtic as the source of OIr. fín, Welsh gwin
and into Germanic as the source of Goth. wein, OE wīn, OHG wīn, which as a
borrowing underlies OCS vino and Lith. vỹnas (IEW 1121). On the basis of com-
pounds such as Goth. weina-gards, OE wīn-geard, OHG wīn-garto ‘vineyard’
and OCS vinjaga ‘grape’, vinogradъ ‘vineyard’, Gamkrelidze and Ivanov (1995:
557–558 with nn. 59, 60) suppose, however, that these are inherited forms from
IE with their first compound member being genetically identical with Lat.
vīnum, but not borrowed, and thus going back to IE *u̯ ei̯no- or alternatively
*u̯ īno-. However, these Germanic and Slavonic compound forms are certainly
not of Proto-Germanic or Proto-Slavonic origin, but merely Common German-
ic and Common Slavonic formations respectively and therefore young enough
to contain word forms of the individual language branches, which are based on
borrowings from Lat. vīnum.
6 Reconstruction
6.1
The evidence of the forms for ‘wine’ and ‘grapevine’ in the individual IE lan-
guages allows (in modification of the basic analysis by Beekes 1987: 24–25) the

212 Lipp
reconstruction of an amphikinetic nomen agentis (genus commune = masc./

fem.) of the type *spéḱ-on- ‘scout, spy, lookout’ (> YAv. spasan-, OHG speho):
PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on- (nom.sg. *u̯ éi̯h1-ō(n))/obl. *u̯ ih1-n-́/loc. *u̯ ih1-én ‘twiner, creeping
plant, tendril, grapevine’ from the verbal root *u̯ ie̯ h1- ‘to wind around, to twine
around’. (For PIE origin of the athematic n-stem meaning ‘grapevine’, see also
Gorton 2014 with nn. 74–92; 2017: 2–8, 17–19.) The base form of the strong stem
**u̯ ié̯ h1-on- → *u̯ éi̯h1-on- shows Schwebeablaut before a vowel-initial suffix.
For prevocalic Schwebeablaut of a root morpheme containing a resonant

in the onset and ending in a laryngeal, cf. inj.aor. *bʰ(u)u̯ eh2-s/t > OLat. subj.
(nē) fuās, fuat ‘you shall / (s)he shall (not) be’ against subj.aor. *bʰéu̯ h2-e-ti >
pres. Ved. bhávati ‘(s)he will be, becomes’; *pleh1- ‘fill (oneself)’ in Gr.
πίμπλημι ‘I fill’, πλήθω ‘I fill myself, become full’, Lat. plēnus ‘full’ against *pólh1-
u/*pélh1-u- ‘fullness’ ntr. > Gr. πολύ ntr. → πολύς ‘much’, Goth. filu ntr. ‘much’.
Cf. lipp 2009b: 150–151 n. 62 with further refs.
A lexicalisation with similar semantics is to be seen in the verbal noun *u̯ ié̯ h1-
ti-/*u̯ ih1-téi̯- ‘the twining (around)’ → ‘twining twig, tendril, flexible branch’ =
Lat. vītis ‘tendril, grapevine’ (by poetic metonymy ‘wine’), Lith. vytìs ‘willow
rod’. In proportional analogy to the zero grade *u̯ ih1-, a phonotactically re-
newed full grade *u̯ ei̯h1- corresponding to the normal root type CeR(H)- was
introduced in YAv. vaēiti- ‘willow rod’ < *u̯ éi̯h1-ti- etc. (on the paradigmatic con-
ditioning of the reshaped apophony, cf. Neri 2017: 324–325 with further refs.);
perhaps the related form *u̯ éi̯h1-on- ‘twiner, grapevine’ (with prevocalic Schwe-
beablaut) also exerted some analogical influence.
6.2
It is possible that the type of nomina agentis like *spéḱ-on-, *u̯ éi̯h1-on- results
from the hypostasis of locatives with postposition *-en, thus *spéḱ-on- ‘scout,
lookout’ = ‘being at looking out’ from loc. *spéḱ-en or *speḱ-én ‘at looking out’
(from a root noun *spéḱ-/*speḱ-́ ‘looking out’); hence *u̯ éi̯h1-on- ‘twiner, creep-
ing plant’ = ‘being at twining, creeping around’ from loc. *u̯ ih1-én ‘at twining,
creeping around’ (from a root noun *u̯ ié̯ h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ ‘the twining, creeping
around’; see below §9.2). Under this perspective, the phonotactically regular-
ised full grade of the root in *u̯ éi̯h1-on- would be due to its derivation from the
zero-grade-containing form of the loc. *u̯ ih1-én (the locative also providing
the basis for the nominal stem *u̯ ih1-én-, nom.sg. *u̯ ih1-ḗn ‘(stock) being at the
grapevine’ > Proto-Greek *u̯ ii̯ḗn > Gk. υἱήν Hesychius = *ϝιήν ‘vine-stock’; see
below §8). For the type of derivation, cf. loc. *dhǵhm-én ‘on the earth’ (> Ved.
jmán) → *dhǵhém-on-/*dhǵhm-n- ‘human being’ = ‘earthling, being on the earth’

(> Lat. homō, -inis etc.; cf. Nussbaum 1986: 187–190, 289–291, Lipp 2009b: 115–
132 with further refs., Lipp forthcoming: §9.1.1).
A similar derivation has been proposed by Neri (2017: 324 n. 181), who takes
Hitt. u̯ ii̯an- ‘wine’ as the substantivised continuant of the adjectival hypostasis
*u̯ ih1-on- ‘belonging to the grapevine’ from the locative *u̯ ih1-én ‘at the grape-
vine’ (belonging to a root noun *u̯ ói̯h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ ‘twining plant’ = ‘willow;
grapevine’). Apart from the fact that the root had the primary shape *u̯ ie̯ h1-
forming a verifiable root noun *u̯ ié̯ h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ ‘the wrapping’ (see below §§9.1,
9.2), one has to keep in mind, however, that the primary meaning of Hitt. u̯ ii̯an-
and Luw. u̯ ii̯an-ī-/u̯ in-ī- (with ī-mutation in nom. + acc.) < *u̯ ih1-on- was ‘grape-
vine’, the meaning ‘wine’ in the case of Hitt. u̯ ii̯an(-a)- being secondary due to
metonymy or hypostasis of the genitive (‘that of the grapevine’) or conditioned
by derivation in the case of Luw. u̯ in-ī- (obl.) ‘wine’ < u̯ in-ii̯a- ‘pertaining to a
grapevine’ (see above §§1.1, 1.1.1, 1.2 and below §7.1).
7 Morphological Representation of the Word for ‘Grapevine’ in

Anatolian
7.1
PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on-/loc. *u̯ ih1-én/obl. *u̯ ih1-n-́ led by generalisation of the zero grade
of the root to Pre-Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íh1-on-/*u̯ ih1-én(-i)/*u̯ ih1-n-́ > Proto-
Anatolian *u̯ íi̯on-/*u̯ ii̯én(-i)/*u̯ ī̆n- ‘grapevine’ > Hittite u̯ ii̯an- ‘grapevine’ and
‘wine’, the latter either by metonymy as *‘product from grapevine’ or by hypos-
tasis from gen. u̯ ii̯an-aš ‘(that) of the grapevine’ displaying a thematic stem
u̯ ii̯an-a-* in the meaning ‘wine’ (the meaning ‘wine’ in Hittite then being re-
stricted to the derivative; but the existence of a separate derivative u̯ ii̯an-a-*
‘wine’ cannot be ascertained due to the ambiguity of the paradigmatic forms
attested, see above §§1.1, 1.1.1, 1.1.3). Luwian u̯ ii̯an-ī-/u̯ in-ī- ‘grapevine’ either dis-
plays Luw. ī-mutation in nom. + acc. of the genus commune on the basis of the
strong stem (partially with Luw. contraction ii̯a > i), or alternatively continues
a hypostasis in the meaning ‘vine-stock’ = ‘(stock) being at the grapevine,
(plant) consisting of grapevine’ from the locative *u̯ ii̯éni ‘at/in the grapevine’ >
Luw. u̯ ii̯ani (with é > Luw. a).
7.2
For the Luwian formation, one can compare the ī-mutation in an athematic
stem like nom.acc. PIE *dʰéǵʰ-ōm ‘earth’ (→ Post-PIE *dʰǵʰṓm > Gr. χθών etc.)
> Proto-Anatolian *dégom (genus commune; Hitt. <te-e-kán> = /dḗgan/ ntr. sec-
ondary) → Pre-Proto-Luwian *deγom-ī́+s/m (with animate-marker *-ī́ in genus

214 Lipp
commune as relic of *-ih2/*-i̯éh2- corresponding to the type Ved. dev-ī́/gen.

dev-yā́s f. ‘goddess’) > nom. *dei̯om-ī́-s, acc. *dei̯om-ī́-m (intervocalic loss of g >
γ with insertion of i̯ as hiatus filler after front vowel), whence by analogy dat.-
loc. *dei̯om-í > Proto-Luwian nom. *dii̯amm-ī́-s, acc. *dii̯amm-ī́-n, dat.-loc.
*dii̯amm-í (raising of pretonic e to i; fortis realisation resp. gemination of the
nasal before following accent) > CLuw. nom. tii̯ammiš, acc. tii̯ammin, dat.-loc.
tii̯ammi = /dii̯ammī́s/, /dii̯ammī́n/, /dii̯ammí/. But for this Luwian word for
‘earth’, there is also the alternative analysis as a locative hypostasis (Kimball
1994a: 78, 84–85 with n. 29), thus loc. PIE *dʰǵʰém(-i) > Proto-Anatolian
*dəgém(i) > 1. loc. Hitt. tagān = /dagāń / ‘on the earth/ground’, 2. locative Pre-
Proto-Luwian *dəγém(i) > *dəi̯ém(mi) (palatalization of velar or rather intervo-
calic loss of g > γ with insertion of i̯ as hiatus filler before front vowel; nasal
gemination according to Lex Čop) > Proto-Luwian *dii̯ám(mi) ‘on the earth/
ground’ → hypostasis CLuw. tii̯ammi- = /dii̯ámmi-/ c. ‘earth, land, ground’
(= *‘being located on the earth’?). (See Lipp 2009b: 56–60 with further refs.).
7.3
For the Anatolian forms, Oettinger (2003: 143–144) offers however the follow-
ing hypothesis based on the assumption that their sound shape was condi-
tioned by Anatolian vowel breaking: PIE *u̯ ói̯h1no- ‘wine’ (= Greek οἶνος m.) >
Proto-Anatolian *u̯ ēno- > Hitt. u̯ ii̯ana- (breaking); *u̯ ói̯h1no- ‘wine’ → *u̯ ói̯h1ni-
‘grapevine’ > Proto-Anatolian *u̯ ēni- > Luw. *u̯ īni- > HLuw. u̯ ii̯ani- (breaking),
by restitution also u̯ īni-. But in this scenario it remains unclear under which
conditions the breaking of ē and ī (as against their preservation in other lex-
emes and paradigms) and the partial restitution of inherited ī take place (no
conditioning by accent, chronological or dialectal distribution being recogniz-
able; for the material, see above §§1.1, 1.2). On the other hand, vowel breaking
must indeed be admitted as an irregular phenomenon, e.g. CLuw. mii̯asa- ntr.
‘flesh’ (nom.acc. mi-i̯a-ša-an-za = /mii̯asantsa/) beside misa- ntr. ‘id.’ = /mīsa-/
(nom.acc. mi-i-ša-an-za, mi-ša-an-za = /mīsantsa/) < *mēs-a- < PIE *mḗs ntr. <
**mḗm-s ~ PIE *mēms-ó- (Ved. mā́s- ~ māṁs-á-, Goth. mimz ntr. etc.; interpre-
tation and etymological analysis of CLuw. mi(i̯a)sa- according to Poetto 1995:
30, 34–35; for the attestations, cf. also Melchert 1993: 149, ACLT s.v. CLuw.
mi(ya)sa- ntr. ‘flesh’). But one has to keep in mind that the Hittite form of the
word for ‘grapevine’ is represented by the athematic n-stem u̯ ii̯an-, and the Hit-
tite word for ‘wine’ is either identical with it due to metonymic extension of
the denotation or represents a thematic hypostasis u̯ ii̯an-a-* based on u̯ ii̯an-
(the underlying stem formation of the attested paradigmatic forms being am-
biguous, see above §§1.1, 1.1.1, 1.1.3). For the explanation of the Anatolian forms,
one therefore has to start from an inherited athematic base form *u̯ ii̯an- in the

meaning ‘grapevine’ (not ‘wine’), and this form cannot be derived from a the-
matic form *u̯ ói̯h1no- corresponding to Gr. οἶνος ‘wine’ and containing precon-
sonantal *oi̯ in the root morpheme, which would provide the starting point for
the alleged Anatolian phonological development consisting of the monoph-
thongization of the diphthong to *ē (> *ī) and subsequent vowel breaking to
*ii̯a (and †u̯ oi̯(h1)-n- as an independent athematic stem of the genus commune
is neither morphologically nor apophonically admissible).
But in this respect H.C. Melchert (p.c.; similarly already Gérard 2009: 20) has
pointed out as a decisive argument that before coronal continuants, the inher-
ited diphthong *oi̯ was not monophthongized in Anatolian, but according to
Kimball was retained as ai̯ in Hittite (as exemplified for the position before n or
tautosyllabic s, just as also inherited *ou̯ and *au̯ were not monophthongized
before resonants; Kimball 1994b: 14–22, 13–14, Kimball 1999: 216, 225–226; fol-
lowed by Melchert 1994: 148 with the assumption of a broader context of pres-
ervation of the respective diphthongs before coronal continuants). Therefore,
the presumed *oi̯ cannot provide the monophthongization product *ē as input
for the vowel breaking to *ii̯a. For the precoronal retention of ai̯ < *oi̯, cf. Hitt.
LÚ
kaina- ‘relative by marriage’ < PIE *ḱói̯-no- (cf. Ved. śéva- ‘friendly, dear’, OHG
hīwa, Latv. siẽva ‘wife’ < *ḱéi̯-u̯ o-/u̯ eh2-, OIr. coím ‘dear’ < *ḱói̯-mo-); Hitt. šuu̯ aiš
‘bird’ < *su̯ oi̯-s (with shortening by Osthoff’s law) < PIE *su̯ ṓi̯-s, nom. of
*(s)h2u̯ ói̯-/*(s)h2u̯ éi̯- (Ved. váy-, nom. vés, Lat. avis).
7.4
Hitt. /u̯ ii̯an-/ c. ‘wine; grape-vine’ < Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íi̯on- < *u̯ íh1-on- with
gen.sg. Hitt. GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-aš = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-aš < *u̯ íi̯on-os, instr.sg. Hitt. ú-i-i̯a-an-
ta < *u̯ íi̯on-d̥ shows generalization of the stem formant *-on- after the strong
stem of the amphikinetic paradigm Proto-Anatolian *u̯ íi̯on-/*u̯ ī̆n-́ < *u̯ íh1-on-/
*u̯ ih1-n-́. A comparable paradigmatic structure is offered by Hitt. nom.sg. ḫāraš,
acc.sg. ḫāranan → gen.sg. ḫāranaš ‘eagle’ (for the Hittite paradigm, cf. Hoffner
and Melchert 2008: 111–112) with apophonic levelling within the original am-
phikinetic paradigm PIE *h3ér-on- : obliquus *h3r̥-n-́ (nom.sg. PIE *h3ér-ō(n) =
*[h3ór-ō˜] > Proto-Anatolian *h3óro+s > Hitt. ḫāraš). The original apophony of
the stem formant is reflected by OHG aro ‘eagle’ < Proto-Germanic *ar-ō˜ < PIE
*h3ér-ō(n) : OHG arn < *arn-i-, ON ǫrn < *arn-u- ‘id.’ < Proto-Germanic *ar-n- ←
*ur-n- < PIE *h3r̥-n-́. (For the apophonic structure of the paradigm of *h3ér-on-
‘eagle’, see Harðarson 1987: 118–122 and also Melchert 1983: 8–9, 10, Zucha 1988:
170–171, 172–173.)
The original PIE paradigm underlying Hitt. /u̯ ii̯an-/ c. ‘wine; grapevine’ thus
was neither protero- nor hysterokinetic. This also becomes clear from the di-
verging paradigm structure in the following two examples.

216 Lipp
(1) Hitt. išḫiman-/išḫimen- c. ‘cord, rope’ with nom.sg. išḫimāš, acc.sg.

išḫimanan → išḫimenan (on the analogy of the oblique stem as in unat-
tested gen.sg. išḫimenaš*; for the Hittite paradigm, seeō Hoffner and
Melchert 2008: 111–112) on the basis of a proterokinetic paradigm *sh2éi̯-
mon- : obl. *sh2i-mén- with nom.sg. *sh2éi̯-mō(n) = *[sh2ái̯-mō ]̃ →
Proto-Anatolian *sh2i-mṓ+s > Hitt. išḫimāš (= OSax. sīmo, OE sīma ‘rope’
< Proto-Germanic *sīmō˜ < *sih2-mō˜ with laryngeal metathesis and prob-
ably analogical suffix accent after acc.sg. *sih2-món-m̥ < *sh2i-món-m̥ ). For
the stem formation, cf. Gr. ἱμονιά ‘well-rope’ < *simon-i̯ā, due to a remod-
elling in the acc.sg. *sh2i-món-m̥ ← PIE *sh2ei̯-món-m̥ = *[sh2ai̯-món-m̥ ] <
**sh2éi̯-mon-m̥ under the influence of the oblique stem PIE *sh2i-mén-,
likewise displaying suffix accent.
On the PIE accent shift in trisyllabic words with the vowel structure é-o-V → e-ó-V
as in the case of the PIE numeral *ku̯ etu̯ óres m. ‘four’ < **ku̯ étu̯ ores, the so-called
“ku̯ etu̯ óres rule” postulated by Klingenschmitt, cf. Lipp 2009b: 96 with n. 143 and
further refs. For the apo phonic structure of the paradigm, see Harðarson
1987: 118–122, partially different Melchert 1983: 10, Zucha 1988: 170–171 with n. 28;
172–173.
(2) Hitt. ištanzan- c. ‘soul’ with nom.sg. ZI-an-za = ištanza*, gen.sg. ištanzanaš
based on a hysterokinetic paradigm *pst-én- : obl. *pst-n-́ with nom.sg.
*pst-ḗn > Proto-Anatolian *stḗn+s > Hitt. ištanza*. For the etymology, cf.
Ved. stána- m., YAv. fštāna- m., Arm. stin ‘female breast’, Gr. στήνιον· στῆθος
(Hesychius) ‘breast’.
For the apophonic structure, see Harðarson 1987: 118–122 on the basis of the etymo-
logical analysis by Eichner 1973: 98 n. 78, which however has been disputed by HED
i/ii 471, Kloekhorst 2008: 415, cf. EWAia ii 752.
8 The Inherited Greek Word for ‘Grapevine’
By hypostasis of the locative *u̯ ih1-én ‘at/in the grapevine/tendril’ in the prehis-
tory of Greek there was formed a new nominal stem *u̯ ih1-én-, nom.sg. *u̯ ih1-ḗn
‘(stock) being at the grapevine, (plant) consisting of grapevine/tendril’ > Proto-
Gr. *u̯ ii̯ḗn > Gr. υἱήν, ἢ υἱόν· τὴν ἄμπελον (Hesychius), to be interpreted as *ϝιήν
‘grapevine, vine-stock’. For the internal derivation, cf. Ved. RV+ pári-jman- adj.
‘being all around, ubiquitous’ ← RV pári-jman adv. ‘all around’ < *pári ǰmán loc.
‘all around on earth’ (RV jmán loc. ‘on earth’).
A comparable constellation of internal derivation based on a locative

(without derivational suffix) can be seen in the s-stem *h2ép-os/

*h2ep-és- ntr. ‘work, opus’ with loc. *h2ep-és(-i) ‘at work’ > Ved. ápas/apás-
‘work’ with loc. apási and in the adjectival hypostasis (derived from the
locative) *h2ep-és- ‘being at work’ (nom.sg. *h2ep-ḗs), continued in the
Ved. adjective apás- ‘working, active’. For the vocalism of the derivative,
cf. Gr. ψευδής ‘lying, false’ as derivative of the s-stem ψεῦδος ntr. ‘lie, false-
hood’ with dative ψεύδει < loc. *-és-i.
See lipp 2009b: 120 with further refs., following j. schindler
9 Etymological Connections of the PIE Word for ‘Grapevine’
9.1
PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on- ‘twiner, creeping plant, grapevine’ is a nomen agentis based on
the verbal root *u̯ ie̯ h1- ‘to wind around, to twine around’ (LIV 2: 695), which is
represented e.g. in the thematic aor. Ved. ávyat ‘has enwrapped’ ← root aor.
3 pl. *u̯ iá̯ nt, remodelled on the stem of root aor.sg. *u̯ iā̯´ - < PIE *u̯ ié̯ h1- from 3.pl.
*u̯ ii̯ánt < PIE *u̯ ih1-ént, further in pres. Ved. vyáyati ‘enwraps’ ← *u̯ ii̯ái̯a- (after
aor. vya- ← *u̯ iā̯ �-) = Lat. vieō, -ēre ‘to bind, twist’ < iterative *u̯ ih1-éi̯e/o- (non-
coloration of the stem suffix proves *h1 and excludes *h2 as final root conso-
nant: †u̯ ih2-éi̯e- > †u̯ ih2ai̯e- > Lat. †viāre), and in Lith. vejù (výti) ‘to wind’ <
*u̯ éi̯h1-e/o- ← **u̯ ié̯ h1-e/o- (Schwebeablaut before vowel-initial suffix, see above
§6.1). From Ved. vyáyati ‘enwraps’ ← PIE *u̯ ih1-éi̯e/o- one has to distinguish ety-
mologically the phonologically and semantically similar verb in pres. Ved.
váyati ‘weaves’ < PIE *Hu̯ -éi̯e/o-, perf. Ved. ūvur ‘they have woven’ (< *Hu-Hu̯ -ŕ̥s
← *He-Hu̯ -ŕ̥s), verbal adj. vy-ùta- ‘woven’ from *Heu̯ -, further Lith. áudžiu, áusti
‘to weave’ < *Heu̯ -d- (LIV 2: 224).
9.2
In Avestan, the related root noun viiā- is still attested occasionally in the basic
(i.e. not derivationally conditioned) lexical meaning ‘wrapping, envelopment’.
The acc.sg. OAv. viiąm is measured as bisyllabic (either /u̯ ia̯ 'am/ as reflex of
PIE *u̯ ié̯ h1-m̥ or /u̯ ii̯ām/ as lexicalised Lindeman variant from PIE *u̯ (i)i̯ḗm <
**u̯ ié̯ h1-m, if Stang’s law applied not only to **°ah2m > *°ām, but also to
**°eh1m > *°ēm; on occasional reflexes of Sievers and Lindeman variants in Old
Avestan, see Schindler 1977: 58–59, cf. Lipp 2009b: 357 n. 18): Yasna 48,7 b-c yōi
ā vaŋhə̄uš manaŋhō dīdraγžō.duiiē // aṣ̌ā viiąm ‘you, who wish to tighten the
envelopment of good thinking in accordance with the right order’. Further
forms of the loc.pl. occur in Yašt 13,11 f-g viiāhuua uruuat̰.caēm astica gaonaca
‘in the wombs (= envelopments) I put together bones and hairs’; Yašt 8,9 b–d
satauuaēsō…viiāhuua yat̰ jasaiti ‘when (the rain-bringing star) Satavaēsa goes

218 Lipp
to his hiding places (= shells, envelopments by the clouds)’ (cf. Humbach 1959:
78, Schindler 1972: 70, Kellens 1984: 56, 340, Kellens and Pirart 1988: 170; 1990:
308; 1991: 224, Humbach 1991: 201–202). In PIE this particular root noun was
probably a nomen actionis with the meaning ‘wrapping, envelopment’, which
displayed mobile accent and therefore the stem allomorphs *u̯ ié̯ h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ (i.e.
not the acrostatic pattern †u̯ ió̯ h1-/†u̯ ié̯ h1- of a nomen agentis or resultativum),
and therefore the Hesychius gloss Gr. γίς· ἱμάς ‘belt’ taken as *ϝίς = */u̯ ī́s/ < Pre-
Proto-Gr. *u̯ íh1-s ‘the wrapping’ (← PIE *u̯ ié̯ h1-s) can be connected as a forma-
tion with generalised zero grade of the root.
10 Morphological Representation of the Words for ‘Wine’ in Italic and

Greek
10.1
Lat. vīnum, Falisc. /vīnom/, Umbr. /vīnom/ ‘wine’ etc. < Proto-Italic *u̯ īno- < PIE
*u̯ ih1no- is derivationally analysable as *u̯ ih1-n-ó-, i.e. an original adjectival pos-
sessive derivation based on the oblique (weak) stem of PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on-/obl.
*u̯ ih1-n-́ ‘grapevine, tendril’ (stem variant as in Luw. /u̯ in-ī-/ ‘wine’ < u̯ in-ii̯a- <
*u̯ īn-ii̯ó- ‘pertaining to a grapevine’; see above §1.2), which has the derivational
meaning ‘having/containing grapevine, consisting of grapevine’ → neuter ‘Re-
bensaft: grape juice, must, wine’ (in Italic lexicalised as a noun). For possessive
adjectives derived from the oblique stem, cf. Ved. tamasá- ‘dark-coloured’ <
*temH-es-ó- ‘having darkness, consisting of darkness’ belonging to Ved. támas-
‘darkness’ ntr. < PIE *témH-os/*temH-és- ← *témH-os/*tm̥ H-és-, and Gr. βιός m.
‘bow’ < *gu̯ih2-ó- ‘having a tendon/string, provided with a tendon’ to Ved. jyā´ - f.
< *gu̯i̯éh2-/*gu̯ih2-́ ‘tendon’.
For Italic possessive derivatives based on the oblique stem, cf. Lat. salvus
‘sound, unharmed’ = Osc. σαλαϝσ, SALAVS, Umbr. saluom, saluuom (< Pro-
to-Sabellic *salau̯ o-) < Proto-Italic *salau̯ o- = OP fra-haravam adv. ‘en-
tirely, altogether’ < Indo-Iranian *sər-au̯ -á- < *sr̥ H-au̯ -á- < PIE *[sl ̥h2au̯ ó-] =
*sl ̥h2-eu̯ -ó- (accent like Gr. κενεός ‘empty’ < *ken-eu̯ ó-). These forms are
etymologically related to CLuw. šalḫitti- ‘growth’ < *sl ̥h2-i-ti- to Hitt. šalli-,
CLuw. šalḫa/i- ‘grown, adult’ ← adj. *sélh2-i-/*sl ̥h2-éi̯-. PIE *sl ̥h2-eu̯ -ó- in the
meaning ‘having health/welfare’ is a possessive formation based on the
oblique stem of the neuter noun *sólh2-u/obl. *sl ̥h2-éu̯ - ‘health, welfare’
(← *sólh2-u/obl. *sélh2-u-, originally belonging to the acrostatic type
*ǵón-u/obl. *ǵén-u- → *ǵn-éu̯ - ‘knee’). This noun is continued 1. by the
Italic noun *sal-u-/*sal-ou̯ - ← *sl ̥h2-u-/*sl ̥h2-au̯ - (← PIE *sólh2-u/*sl ̥h2-éu̯ -)

as base of the secondary Lat. salūs, -ūtis ‘health, welfare’ < *salou̯ -ti-; and
2. by the Ved. adverb pra-salaví ‘entirely, altogether’ < Proto-Indo-Iranian
loc. *sar-áu̯ -i belonging to *sár-u/*sar-áu̯ - < *sálH-u/*salH-áu̯ - < *sólh2-
u/*solh2-áu̯ - (← PIE *sólh2-u/*sl ̥h2-éu̯ -; see Lipp 2009b: 339–341 and nn. 64,
66 for refs.).
10.2
10.2.1
Gr. οἶνος m. ‘wine’, Myc. wo-no = /u̯ oi̯no-/ etc. < Proto-Gr. *u̯ ói̯no- < PIE
*u̯ ói̯(h1)no- (laryngeal loss according to Lex Saussure, see above §2) is analys-
able in its derivation as *u̯ ói̯h1-n-o- ‘Rebensaft: grape juice, must, wine’ ← *u̯ oi̯h1-
n-ó- ‘having/containing grapevine, consisting of grapevine’, i.e. as an early sub-
stantivisation of an archaic adjectival possessive formation, characterised by
o-grade of the root and initial accent. The adjectival possessive formation
*u̯ oi̯h1-n-ó- is probably derived from the strong stem of PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on-/obl.
*u̯ ih1-n-́ ‘tendril, grapevine’ (by paradigmatic levelling Pre-Proto-Anatolian
*u̯ ih1-on- > Hitt. u̯ ii̯an(a)- ‘grapevine; wine’); morphologically and functionally
comparable is e.g. Goth. hals, Lat. collum, OLat. collus ‘neck’ < *kólso- (k < ku̯ by
delabialisation before rounded vowel o) < PIE *ku̯ ólso- ‘joint for a turning mo-
tion’ ← *ku̯ olsó- (Lex Saussure: oR.C < oRH.C, see above §§2, 3) < *ku̯ olh1-s-ó-
‘having a turning motion, performing a turning motion’ as derivative of the
verbal noun *ku̯ élh1-os/-és- ntr. ‘turning (motion)’ > Gr. τέλος ‘end’ = *‘turning
point’. The archaic formation of the underlying possessive adjectives *u̯ oi̯h1-
n-ó- and *ku̯ olh1-s-ó- shows a morphonologically conditioned o-grade of the
root morpheme, which was unaccented in the derivative, but accented in the
derivational bases *u̯ éi̯h1-on- c. and *ku̯ élh1-os ntr. respectively. Such derivations
might have provided a prototype for substantivisations with the vr̥ddhi vowel
*-o- (for such analyses, see below §10.2.2). From these formations, one must
however distinguish younger and more frequent possessive formations with
e-grade of the root like possibly *ku̯ elh1-s-ó- ‘having a turning point, being at the
turning point’ (> Welsh pell ‘far’, on which see Neri’s different analysis in the
next paragraph); cf. the derivation from the base *ḱér-u- ‘horn, point’ (> Ved.
śáru- f. RV ‘arrow, spear’) in the case of PIE *ḱer-u̯ -ó- ‘having horns, horned’ or
*ḱér-u̯ -o- ‘animal having horns, horned animal’ > Lat. cervus ‘stag, deer’ beside
a probably older and therefore already Pre-PIE formation *kor-u̯ -ó- ‘having
horns, horned’ → PIE *kór-u̯ -o- ‘horned animal, cattle’ (early lexicalised form
without later satem palatalisation like in the base form *ḱér-u- < **kér-u-) →
Balto-Slavic *kṓru̯ -ā- f. ‘cow’ (vr̥ddhi derivation meaning *‘the female belong-
ing to the horned animal’) > RussCS krava, Lith. kárvė (< *-ii̯ā-) ‘id.’ (on the
formation type, see Lipp 2009a: 14 and n. 21; 60–61 and n. 161 with further refs.,

220 Lipp
Lipp forthcoming: §9.3.2; Lat. corvus ‘crow, raven’ could be related as *‘animal
with horny beak’ from *kór-u̯ -o- ‘horned animal’, but in general an onomatopo-
etic origin is assumed for this form).
For substantivisation with initial accent, cf. the derivations PIE *u̯ l ̥ku̯ ó-
‘dangerous’ (Ved. a-vr̥ká- ‘harmless’ = *‘undangerous’ and Hitt.
u̯ alku(u̯ )a- ntr. ‘monstrosity’, if not from *u̯ élku̯ o- ‘the dangerous thing’) →
PIE *u̯ ĺk�̥ u̯ o- ‘dangerous animal’ (Luw. u̯ alu̯ a-/u̯ alu̯ i- ‘lion’, Ved. vŕ̥ka-, Gr.
λύκος etc. ‘wolf’), Ved. kr̥ ṣṇá- ‘black’ → kŕ̥ṣṇa- ‘black antelope’, *anná- ‘eat-
en’ → ánna- ‘food’, Gr. λευκός ‘white’ → λεῦκος ‘white fish’, λεύκη ‘abele,
white poplar’, δολιχός ‘long’ → δόλιχος ‘long run’ (cf. Lipp 2009b: 144–145
with refs.). For the substantivisation of a possessive formation, cf. (as de-
rivative of *rót-o- ‘the running, the rolling motion/device’ = OHG rad
‘wheel’ etc. → *rót-h2/*rot-éh2- ‘roller, wheel’ = Lat. rota ‘wheel’) the pos-
sessive adj. *roth2-ó- ‘having wheels’ → substantive *róth2-o- ‘chariot’ =
Ved. rátha-, Av. raθa- ‘chariot’ (see Lipp 2009b: 387 n. 87; 453 with refs.).
10.2.2
A different derivation for Gr. οἶνος m. ‘wine’ < *u̯ ói̯(h1)no- is proposed by Neri
(2017: 324 n. 181), who regards it as a barytone substantivisation with o-grade
on the basis of a vṛddhi derivative *u̯ ei̯h1-n-ó- ‘belonging to the grapevine’, i.e. as
a formation like the aforementioned (but in 10.2.1. differently analysed) form
Goth. hals ‘neck’ < Germ. *h(w)alsa- < *ku̯ ól(h1)-s-o- ← *ku̯ elh1-s-ó- ‘having a turn-
ing motion/point’ > Welsh pell ‘far’ (= *‘having a turning point, being at the
turning point’), and Lith. žãstas (2) ‘upper arm’ < *ǵhós-to- ← *ǵhes-tó- ‘belong-
ing to the hand’. In Neri’s analysis, *u̯ ei̯h1-n-ó- is a thematic hypostasis of a loca-
tive *u̯ ih1-én ‘at the grapevine’ (→ *u̯ ih1-on- ‘belonging to the grapevine’ > Hitt.
u̯ ii̯an- ‘wine’) from a root noun *u̯ ói̯h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ ‘twining plant’ = ‘willow; grape-
vine’ (the existence of which cannot be ascertained, however; see above
§§6.2, 9.2).
According to Gippert (1994: 119 n. 16), on the other hand, Gr. οἶνος m. ‘wine’ <
*u̯ ói̯no- < *u̯ ói̯(H)no- continues a substantivisation with secondary o-grade
vṛddhi in the meaning ‘grape’ = ‘the fruit belonging to the twining plant/grape-
vine’, which is derived from the verbal adjective *u̯ iH-nó- ‘twined’, whose neu-
ter form meaning ‘twining plant, grapevine’ is continued by Lat. vīnum ‘wine’.
The Armenian form gini, gen. ginwoy ‘wine’ < *u̯ ēnii̯o- < *u̯ oi̯(H)nio- is assumed
to be an -io- derivative from *u̯ ói̯(H)no- ‘grape’ with the meaning ‘wine’ as des-
ignation for the product made from grapes. The Anatolian forms like Hitt.
u̯ ii̯an(a)- ‘grapevine; wine’ would however be based on different derivations
from the respective verbal root.

11 The Semitic Evidence
The earliest attestations of Semitic *u̯ ai̯nu ‘wine’ are represented by the Old
Cannaanite forms i̯e-nu, i̯e-ni (14th c. bc) from Akkadian diplomatic texts in
the Egyptian archive of Tell el-Amarna. In the textual tradition of the respec-
tive Semitic languages there are the following attestations: Ugaritic yn = /yēnu/
‘wine’ (13th c. bc; cf. Aistleitner 1967: 130–131 Nr. 1183, del Olmo Lete and
Sanmartín 2003: 968–971, for the retrieval of the forms, see Zemánek 1995: esp.
121–122), Phoenician yn = /yēn/, Old Aramaic yyn, Hebrew yyn, vocalised yayin
(Samaritan Ostraca yn = /yēn/), Ammonite yn = /yēn/ ‘wine’ (each of these
forms showing the Northwest Semitic change of initial *u̯ - > i̯-); Old Sabaean
wyn, yyn ‘vineyard’ (with vacillation between u̯ - and i̯-); Ethiopic (Geʻez) wayən
‘wine, grapevine, vineyard’; further only occasionally attested Arabian wayn
‘black grapes’. (On the Semitic forms and their possible interdependence with
IE and non-IE forms, cf. Brown 1969: 147–148, Koehler and Baumgartner 1974:
391, Cohen 1996: 534, Lipiński 1997: 561, Zamora 2000: 269, 270, 274, Leslau 2006:
623, Aspesi 2013, Gorton 2014 with nn. 28–38, 105–111; assumption of a borrow-
ing from Hittite by Rabin 1963: 138–139, unconvincing attempt at an etymologi-
cal connection of the lexeme within Semitic by van Selms 1974, which is
rejected by Aspesi 2013: 6 with n. 22, Gorton 2014 with n. 37).
The lexeme in question is represented only in West Semitic, not in East Se-
mitic, as the traditionally connected form Akkad. inu appears only in Young
Babylonian lexicographical lists and as such is not old and also of unknown
meaning (CAD 7: 152 s.v. inu C, 157 s.v. īnu 1.(e)l, Rabin 1963: 138 n. 8 versus AHw
I 383). Since ancient times, the normal expression in East Semitic for ‘wine’ has
been Akkad. karānu (also ‘grape, grapevine’), often rendered by the Sumerian
logogram GEŠTIN. And because of the phonotactic structure of its potential
root element (*u̯ in̯ ), *u̯ ai̯nu is also without an inner-Semitic etymological con-
nection. But also as a borrowing it would not be derivable from the Anatolian
forms Hitt. u̯ ii̯an(a)- ‘wine; grapevine’, HLuv. u̯ ii̯ani-, u̯ ini- ‘grapevine’ (< *u̯ ih1-
on-/*u̯ ih1-n-; see above §§1.1, 1.1.1, 1.2, 7.1).
The following hypothesis, however, might offer a solution: The lexeme
*u̯ ai̯nu could have been borrowed into Northwest Semitic (Ugaritic + Aramaic +
Canaanite [= Phoenician, Hebrew, Moabitic, Ammonite]) around 1500 bc by
way of the Levant trade from Mycenaean, where in the textual evidence of
Linear B the word is attested as wo-no = /u̯ oi̯no-/ ‘wine’ (> later Greek οἶνος; see
above §2).
As according to the evidence from Amorite names in Akkadian and Egyp-
tian sources and from Old Syrian and Old Canaanite glosses in the correspon-
dence from Tell el-Amarna (cf. Moscati 1964: 46) the Northwest Semitic initial

222 Lipp
change *u̯ - > i̯- had already taken place by the first quarter of the second mil-
lennium bc, one can suppose that the lexeme *u̯ ai̯nu as a loan form, which was
taken over from Mycenaean only in the middle of the second millennium bc,
would first have preserved its initial *u̯ - in Northwest Semitic and as such
would soon have spread from the Northwest Semitic area further within the
Semitic group to the south (into North and South Arabian, Ethiopic).
As by the earlier Northwest Semitic sound change *u̯ - > i̯- all former instanc-
es of initial *u̯ - had been removed, it is easily conceivable that after some time
a secondary sound substitution of new isolated cases of initial *u̯ - would have
occurred as in the loanword *u̯ ai̯nu ‘wine’, which therefore within Northwest
Semitic changed secondarily for structural reasons into *i̯ai̯nu. Thus only in
specific phonetic constellations or still later acquired lexemes was initial u̯ -
preserved in Northwest Semitic, as for instance in the case of the proclitic con-
junction *u̯ a- ‘and’ > Ugarit.Phoen. w-, Hebr.Aram. wə- corresponding to Arab.
wa- and Akkad. u < *u̯ a- (cf. Moscati 1964: 46, 121, Sivan 2001: 25–26).
12 Conclusion
To sum up: In historical linguistic analysis, the set of forms of the word for
‘wine’ represented in the individual Indo-European languages can be derived
from a formation based on the PIE root *u̯ ie̯ h1- ‘to wind around, to twine
around’, i.e. a nominal nasal stem PIE *u̯ éi̯h1-on-/obl. *u̯ ih1-n-́/loc. *u̯ ih1-én
‘twiner, creeping plant, tendril, grapevine’ (with Schwebeablaut of the full
grade of the root morpheme before the vowel-initial suffix). This athematic
stem is continued on the one hand by Hittite u̯ ii̯an- c. ‘wine; grapevine’ (wheth-
er the meaning ‘wine’ was restricted to a thematic hypostasis u̯ ii̯an-a-* cannot
be decided in view of the ambiguity of the paradigmatic forms attested) and
Hieroglyphic Luwian u̯ ii̯ani-, u̯ ini- c. ‘grapevine’ (with generalized zero grade of
the root). On the other hand, it provides the derivational base for the posses-
sive formations 1. *u̯ oi̯(h1)-n-ó- ‘consisting of grapevine’ (from the strong stem
*u̯ éi̯h1-on-) → noun *u̯ ói̯n-o- ‘juice from grapevine, grape juice, Rebensaft’ >
Greek (ϝ)οἶνος m. ‘wine’, Armenian gini ‘wine’ (< *u̯ oi̯n-ii̯o-m ntr. < *u̯ oi̯n-ih2ó- ←
*u̯ ói̯n-o-) and 2. *u̯ ih1-n-ó- ‘consisting of grapevine’ (from the weak stem *u̯ ih1-
n-́) → Proto-Italic *u̯ īnom ntr. ‘juice from grapevine, grape juice, Rebensaft’ >
Latin vīnum, Faliscan /vīnom/, Umbrian /vīnom/ ‘wine’; under this assumption
the Etruscan form VINUN, VINUM continues a loan adopted from an Italic
language no later than the 7th century bc. A debatable alternative is offered by
Agostiniani’s analysis, according to which the Italic forms are borrowed from
the Etruscan language, which in turn would have taken over this lexeme from

Greek, i.e. Common Italic /u̯ īnom/ ← Etruscan VINUN, VINUM ← accusative
Greek u̯ oi̯non*. The Semitic forms Ugaritic yn = /yēnu/, Phoenician yn = /yēn/,
Hebrew yayin ‘wine’, etc. < *u̯ ai̯nu may be based on a borrowing in the mid-2nd
millennium bc from Mycenaean Greek (Linear B wo-no = /u̯ oi̯no-/), whereas
the source of the Caucasian forms Georgian γvino, Mingrelian gvini ‘wine’ is
probably a loan acquired during the 1st millennium bc from Proto-Armenian
or its prestage (Proto-Kartvelian *γu̯ ini̯o ← [Pre-]Proto-Armenian *gu̯ īníi̯o, gen.
*gu̯ īni̯ói̯o < *u̯ oi̯n-ii̯o- = Armenian gini, gen. ginwoy).
Acknowledgements
This paper presented at the Hrozný memorial conference in Prague in Novem-

ber 2015 is based on a joint talk given with Bela Brogyanyi at the iii Convegno
irdau in Perugia and Gubbio in September 2011 (Brogyanyi and Lipp 2016). In
the present version, special attention has been paid to the Anatolian and Italic
evidence. For valuable advice on the formation and attestation of the words for
‘grapevine’ and ‘wine’ in Anatolian I would like to thank Craig Melchert and
Massimo Poetto, who have also generously provided me with important biblio-
graphical references. Further references I owe to Marianna Pozza. I am also
indebted to Ilya Yakubovich for making accessible precious archival material,
and to Luke Gorton for putting his unpublished PhD thesis at my disposal
(Gorton 2014). For advice on Semitic issues, I would like to thank my depart-
ment colleagues Viktor Bielický and Pavel Čech. I would also like to acknowl-
edge the utmost care taken by the volume editor Ronald Kim in processing my
typographically complex text and in improving the style of the paper. For sub-
stantial suggestions and support in providing research literature, I am grateful
to my friends Bela Brogyanyi, Martin Gális and Sergio Neri. The research for
this paper has been supported by the Czech Science Foundation in the form of
projects GA 14-10673S and GA 14-12987S and by Charles University in Prague
within the project ‘Progres 4: Language in the shiftings of time, space, and
culture’.
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Rix, H. (1998) Teonimi etruschi e teonimi italici, Annali della Fondazione per il museo
“Claudio Faina” 5, 207–229.
Rix, H. (2008) Etruscan, in: R.D. Woodard (ed.), The Ancient Languages of Europe, Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 141–164.
Rüster, C. and Neu, E. (1989) Hethitisches Zeichenlexikon. Inventar und Interpretation
der Keilschriftzeichen aus den Boğazköy-Texten, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
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Innsbruck. (2., durchgesehene Auflage, 2007.)

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University.

Chapter 11
Satzanfänge im Hethitischen
Rosemarie Lühr
Abstract
Am Satzanfang können im Hethitischen metatextuelle Ausdrücke und informations-

strukturelle Einheiten auftreten: Frames, Topics, Contrastive Topics, Foci. Hinzu kom-
men Ausdrücke für Gegebenheiten der Sprechsituation, Anreden, Sprecher und
Adressat, Anredefloskeln. Wackernagel-Elemente, Pronomina, die “Reflexivpartikel”
-za, “Lokalpartikeln,” Partikeln der zitierten Rede, tragen darüber hinaus zur Gliede-
rung des Satzes bei. Weshalb das Hethitische so viele Wackernagel-Elemente hat,
könnte auf eine ursprünglich inkrementelle Syntax weisen.
Keywords
Anredefloskel – Contrastive Topic – Focus – Frame – gesprochene Sprache –

inkrementelle Syntax – Partikel der zitierten Rede – Reflexivpartikel – Topic –
Wackernagel-Element
Die altindogermanischen Sprachen besitzen keine dem deutschen Vorfeld,

Mittelfeld und Nachfeld entsprechende Feldgliederung. Daher ist eine Frage,
wie diese Sprachen die solchen Feldern zukommenden informationsstruktu-
rellen Aufgaben erfüllen.1 Dabei können Wackernagel-Elemente ein Gliede-
rungssignal im Satz sein. Eine altindogermanische Sprache, die für diese
Positionen umfangreiches Material bietet, ist das Hethitische. Das Hethitische
hat unter den altindogermanischen Sprachen nicht nur die meisten Elemente
1 Krisch (2007) postuliert auch für das Altindische eine Gliederung des Satzes nach Vorfeld,
Mittelfeld und Nachfeld: Das Nachfeld beginnt hinter dem finiten Verb in Endposition, das
Mittelfeld besteht aus dem Scrambling-Bereich, und das Vorfeld umfasst gegebenenfalls zwei
topikalisierte Konstituenten, die erste mit Wackernagel-Element. Auch ein Teil einer Konsti-
tuente, die durch einen “Regenerierungsprozess” zu einer vollständigen Phrase werden kann
(Riemsdijk 1989; Krisch 1998: 374; Fanselow 2004), erscheint vor der Wackernagel-Position.
Eine inhaltliche Bestimmung der Elemente am Satzanfang nimmt Speyer (2009) für das La-
teinische, Germanische und Griechische vor. Er konstatiert in dieser Position eine Bevorzu-
gung von “Rahmenbildnern,” “Listenelementen” und “Themen,” sofern sie explizit sind.

Satzanfänge im Hethitischen 231
in der Wackernagelposition, auch ist die Anordnung in der Partikelkette gram-

matikalisiert. Daneben gibt es im Hethitischen aber auch Satzanfänge ohne
Wackernagel-Elemente. Die Frage, ob auch bei den Sätzen ohne Wackerna-
gel-Elemente bestimmte einigermaßen regelmäßig an der Satzspitze stehen,
ist das eine, um das es im Folgenden geht. Die andere Frage betrifft die Ele-
mente in den Wackernagel-Positionen selbst.
1 Satzanfänge ohne Wackernagel-Elemente
Unter den Satzanfängen ohne Wackernagel-Elemente gibt es metatextuelle

Ausdrücke, informationsstrukturelle Einheiten und Bezeichnungen von Gege-
benheiten der Sprechsituation.
1.1 Metatextuelle Ausdrücke

Das Korpus, das hauptsächlich aus dem Gebet Muwatalli ii. an die Götterver-
sammlung (CTH 381; jh.), dem Erlass des Telipinu (CTH 19), einem Gerichts-
protokoll (CTH 293; jh.) und Ritualen (CTH 443; 447) besteht, enthält nur ganz
wenige Sätze ohne Wackernagel-Elemente.
Ein Beispiel mit einem Textadverb ist (1). ki-iš-ša-an “folgendermaßen” steht
am Anfang des Satzes und dient der metatextuellen Gliederung:
(1) Muwatallis Gebet (CTH 381), Vs. i 1–2

UM-MA ta-ba-ar-na mNIR.GÁL
folgendermaßen Tabarna: NOM.SG Muwatalli
LUGAL.GAL LUGAL KUR URU
Ḫa-at-ti
Großkönig König Land Stadt Ḫatti
U M-MA ta-ba-ar-na mNIR.GÁL LUGAL.GAL LUGAL KUR URUḪa-at-ti …
“Folgendermaßen spricht der Tabarna Muwatalli, der Großkönig, König des Landes der
Stadt Ḫatti …”2
1.2 Informationsstrukturelle Einheiten

Auch informationsstrukturelle Einheiten erscheinen am Satzanfang. Unter-
schieden wird nach New Information Focus und Contrastive Focus, wobei zum
2 Textadverbien kommen aber auch in der Mitte des Satzes vor, z.B. Muwatallis Gebet (CTH
381), Rs. iii 73–74:
nu ḫa-an-da-an ú-uk ki-iš-ša-an me-ma-al-lu
und getreu ich:nom folgendermaßen sprechen: PRS.IMP.ACT1SG
“Getreu möge ich folgendermaßen sprechen.”

232 Lühr
Focus auch die Contrastive Topics gezählt werden, dann nach New Aboutness
Topic oder Shifting Topic und Non-New Aboutness Topic und nach den Kategori-
sierungen der Centering-Theorie mit den Relationen Continue, Retain, Smooth
Shift und Rough Shift. Hinzu kommen Frames.
1.2.1 Frames
Frames sind propositionsbezogen. Als frame-setting-Adjunkte geben sie den
Rahmen an, in dem der Satz wahr ist (Chafe 1976).
(2)(a) In Deutschland bin ich weltberühmt. (H. Juhnke) (Maienborn 2001)

(2)(b) Im Falle eines Sieges wird die Mannschaft eine Extrazulage erhalten.3
Darüber hinaus wird durch den Frame ein Wechsel des Standpunkts angezeigt.
Im Deutschen befinden sich solche scene-setting-Elemente, sofern sie referen-
tiell sind und kontextuelle Bindung vorliegt, im Vorfeld; ebenso erscheinen
Frames im Hethitischen am Satzanfang. Man findet lokale, temporale und mo-
dale Adverbialia mit Autosemantika, Deiktika und Temporalsätzen. Formen
ohne Wackernagel-Partikeln sind wieder nur vereinzelt. Für einen lokalen
Frame mit einer lokativischen Fügung vgl.:
(3) Telipinu-Erlass (CTH 19), Vs. i 19–20

a-pí-e-el-l= a ŠU-I URU DIDLI.ḪI.A GAL.GAL TIM
dieser: GEN.SG und Hand: LOC.SG Stadt: PL groß: PL
ti-it-ti-i̯a-an-te-eš e- še-ir
zuordnen: PTCP.NOM.C.PL sein: IPF.IND.ACT3PL
a-pi-e-el-la ŠU-i URU DIDLI.ḪI.A GAL.GALTIM ti-it-ti-i̯a-an-te-eš e- še-ir
“Und in dessen Hand wurden die großen Städte zugeordnet.”
Für temporale Frames mit Adverbien bzw. einem Temporalsatz:
(4) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), I 29–30
ka-ru-ú li-in-ku-un
früher schwören: IPF.IND.ACT1SG
ka-ru-ú li-in-ku-un
“Ich habe früher geschworen.”
3 Der Gültigkeitsbereich der Proposition wird auch eingeschränkt in:

Arbeitsmäßig geht es mir gut. (domain adjunct).

(5) Muwatallis Gebet (CTH 381), Rs. iv 59

nam-ma ŠA IṢ-ṢI 2 GUNNI DÙ-an-zi
dann von Holz: GEN.SG 2 Feuerstelle machen:
PRS.IND.ACT3PL
nam-ma ŠA IṢ-ṢI 2 GUNNI DÙ-an-zi
“Dann machen sie 2 Feuerstellen mit Holz.”

[ma-a-an mḪ]a-an-ti-li-iš-š= a URU
Ta-ga-ra-ma a-a[r-aš
als Ḫantili: nom und Stadt Tagarama: loc ankommen:
IPF.IND.ACT3SG
nu me-mi-iš-ki-]u-wa-an [da-a-iš]
und sprechen: sup beginnen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
[ma-a-an mḪ]a-an-ti-li-iš-ša URUTa-ga-ra-ma a-a[r-aš nu me-mi-iš-ki-]u-wa-an [da-a-iš]
“Und als Ḫantili in Tagarama ankam, begann er zu sprechen.”
Für modale Frames mit einer präpositionalen Fügung bzw. Adverb vgl.:
(7) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Vs. ii 12

[QA-D]U ku-úr-da-a-li i-da-a-la-mu-uš
zusammen mit kurtali-Behälter(N): INSTR.SG böse: ACC.C.PL
EME ḪI.A ar-ḫa šu-uḫ-ḫa-ir
Zunge: PL weg schütten: IPF.IND.ACT3PL
[QA-D]U ku-úr-da-a-li i-da-a-la-mu-uš EME ḪI.A ar-ḫa šu-uḫ-ḫa-ir
“Zusammen mit dem kurtali-Behälter schütteten sie die bösen Zungen weg.”
(8) Muwatallis Gebet (CTH 381), Rs. iii 73–74

und getreu ich: nom folgendermaßen sprechen: PRS.IMP.ACT1SG
“Getreu möge ich folgendermaßen sprechen.”
1.2.2 Topics
Gegenüber den häufigen aus enklitischen Personalpronomina bestehenden
Topics in der Wackernagel-Domäne sind Topics an der ersten Satzposition sel-
ten. Belege finden sich für das deiktische Demonstrativpronomen “dieser.” In
(9) und (10) erscheint die nominale Fügung mit diesem Pronomen als Shifting
Topic in einer Rough-Shift-Relation, d.h.: Es ist kein Bezug auf das Subjekt des
vorausgehenden Satzes gegeben, sondern das Subjekt ist neu eingeführt.

234 Lühr
(9) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Vs. i 33–34
nu ki-e i-da-a-la-u-e-eš al-wa-an-zi-in-ni-eš
und dieser: NOM.C.PL böse: NOM.C.PL zauberkräftig: NOM.C.PL
eme[ḪI.A wa-ḫ]a-an-du BE-L[Í] QA-DU
Zunge: PL sich wenden: PRS.IMP.ACT3PL Herr: DAT zusammen mit
DAM- -ŠU DUMU MEŠ- -ŠU É- -ZU
Ehefrau sein Sohn: PL sein Haus sein
nu ki-e i-da-a-la-u-e-eš al-wa-an-zi-in-ni-eš eme[ḪI.A wa-ḫ]a-an-du BE-L[Í] QA-DU DAM-
ŠU DUMU MEŠ-ŠU É-ZU
“Diese bösen zauberkräftigen Zungen sollen sich zugunsten des Herrn zusammen mit sei-
ner Ehefrau, seinen Söhnen und seinem Haus wenden.”
Der Satz davor lautet:
DUTU-uš DUTU-wa-aš DINGIR.LÚ MEŠ qa-a-ša-aš-ma-aš kar-di-mi-i̯a-at-ta-aš

ḫ[ar-]ši-in pí-iḫ-ḫu-un
“Oh Sonnengott, oh männliche Götter des Sonnengottes, siehe, ich habe euch
das Dickbrot des Zornes gegeben.”
(10) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Rs. iii 20’
[nu ki-i al-wa-an-za-tar(?) EGIR-pa fZi
und dieser: NOM.N.SG Zauberei(N): NOM.SG wieder Zi
QA-DU] DUMU MEŠ- -ŠU ḫar-du
zusammen mit Sohn: PL sein halten: PRS.IMP.ACT3SG
[nu ki-i al-wa-an-za-tar(?) EGIR-pa fZi QA-DU] DUMU MEŠ-ŠU ḫar-du
“Diese Zauberei halte wieder die Zi zusammen mit ihren Söhnen.”
Der vorausgehende Kontext ist:
[ku-u-un SÍGpít-tu-u-la-an ma-a-aḫ-ḫa-an tuḫ-ša-an-n]a-aḫ-ḫu-un Ù ŠA fZi

[i-da-a-lu ut-tar al-wa-an-za-tar ar-ḫa QA-TAM-MA tu]ḫ-ša-an e-eš-tu
“Wie ich diese Schnur abgeschnitten habe, ebenso sei auch das böse Wort
(und) die Zauberei von Zi abgeschnitten.”
Ohne Demonstrativpronomen tritt die definite Nominalphrase als Subjekt in

einer Smooth-Shift-Relation in (11) auf:

(11) Telipinu-Erlass (CTH 19), Vs. i 12

[(nu URU DIDLI.ḪI.A GAL.GALTIM [(t)]i-it-ti-i̯a-an-te-eš
und Stadt: PL groß: PL zuordnen: PTCP.NOM.C.PL
e- šir
sein: IPF.IND.ACT3PL
[(nu URUDIDLI .ḪI.A GAL.GALTIM [(t)]i-it-ti-i̯a-an-te-eš e-šir
“Und die großen Städte wurden (ihnen) zugeordnet.”
Smooth-Shift bedeutet einen Subjektswechsel gegenüber dem Subjekt im vor-

ausgehenden Kontext. Die Ortsbezeichnungen werden durch “die großen
Städte” aufgenommen:
Voraus geht:
(11)(a) Telipinu-Erlass (CTH 19), Vs. i 10

[(URUḪ)]u-u-piš-na URUTu-u-u̯ [(a-an)]u-u̯ a URUNe-na-aš-ša URULa-a-an-da URUZa-alla-ra
[(URU)]Pár-šu-ḫa-an-ta URULu[(-u-u)]š-na nu ut-ne-e ma-ni-i̯a-aḫ-ḫi-eš-ki-ir “In Hupišna,
Tuwanuwa, Nenašša, Lansa, Zallara, Paršuḫanta, Lušna verwalteten sie das Land.”
1.2.3 Contrastive Topics

Des Weiteren kommt der eine Teil von zwei Contrastive Topics an der Satzspit-
ze ohne Wackernagel-Partikel vor:

1 GIŠBANŠUR ANA dUTU URU
TÚL-na
1 Tisch zu Sonnengöttin Stadt Arinna
Ù DINGIR MEŠ LÚ MEŠ [1 GIŠ
BA]NŠUR
und Gott: PL Mann: PL 1 Tisch
da-a-i
setzen: PRS.IND.ACT3SG
1 GIŠBANŠUR A-NA dUTU URUTÚL-na Ù DINGIR MEŠ LÚ MEŠ [1 GIŠBA]NŠUR da-a-i
“Einen Tisch stellt er für die Sonnengöttin der Stadt Arinna auf und für die männlichen
Götter einen Tisch.”
Nach Lang (1984, 1991) sind solche Topics einer gemeinsamen Einordnungsins-
tanz, einem Common Integrator, hier Ritualgegenständen, zuzuordnen. Die
kontrastive Lesart wird dabei durch ein folgendes kontrastiertes Element
signalisiert, “für die Sonnengöttin der Stadt Arinna.” Es ist ein Contrastive

236 Lühr
F ocus; darauf erscheint als weiterer Contrastive Focus “für die männlichen Göt-
ter” und schließlich der zweite Teil des Contrastive Topic “einen Tisch.” Den
New Information Focus bildet dann da-a-i “stellt auf.”
Im Deutschen haben Sätze mit einem Contrastive Topic vor einem folgen-
den ebenfalls hervorgehobenen Wort ein spezifisches Tonmuster, weshalb
Jacobs (1997) von einem Intonational Topic spricht. In der Tat werden Sätze mit
Intonational Topics als zweigipflige (Hut-)Kontur wahrgenommen, während
man in Sätzen mit neutralen Topics lediglich eine Hervorhebung auf dem Fo-
kusexponenten hört. Bei dem steigenden Akzent der Hutkontur handelt es
sich um einen Kontrastakzent, der zusammen mit dem Kontext die Interpreta-
tion von Alternativen auslöst. Wie an anderer Stelle bemerkt (Lühr 2008), dürf-
ten solche Sätze auch in altindogermanischen Sprachen artikuliert worden
sein.
Im Hethitischen haben weiterhin Sätze mit der kontrastiven Partikel -ma
“aber” wohl eine Intonationskontur:

nu NINDA.GUR 4.RA iš-pa-an-du-uz-zi- -i̯a [ku-i]n A-NA
und dickes Brot Spende(N): ACC.SG und welcher: ACC.C.SG zu
dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši EN- -I̯A pé-eš-ki-mi
Wettergott zum Blitz gehörig: DAT.SG Herr mein geben:
ITER.PRS.IND.ACT1SG
na- -an- -ši
und er: ACC.C.SG er: DAT.SG
du-uš-ga-ra-u-wa-an-za pí-iš-ke-el-lu píd-du-li-i ̯a-u-wa-an-za-
freudig: NOM.C.SG geben: ITER.PRS.IMP.ACT1SG zögernd: NOM.C.SG
-ma- -da le-e pé-eš-ki-mi
aber du: DAT nicht geben: ITER.PRS.IND.ACT1SG
nu NINDA.GUR 4.RA iš-pa-an-du-uz-zi-i̯a [ku-i]n A-NA dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši EN-I̯A pé-eš-
ki-mi na-an-ši du-uš-ga-ra-u-wa-an-za pí-iš-ke-el-lu píd-du-li-i̯a-u-wa-an-za-ma-da le-e
pé-eš-ki-mi
“Das dicke Brot und die Spende, die ich dem zum Blitz gehörigen Wettergott, meinem
Herrn, stets gebe, das gebe ich ihm freudig, nicht aber soll ich es dir zögernd geben.”
Gibt man den zweiten Satz der Satzreihe in der deutschen Wortstellung
wieder – “zögernd aber soll ich es dir nicht geben” – mit “zögernd” als Contras-
tive Topic, ergibt sich wieder eine Hutkontur. píd-du-li-i̯a-u-wa-an-za “zögernd”
steht dem vorausgehenden Adjektiv du-uš-ga-ra-u-wa-an-za “freudig” gegen-
über, wobei der Common Integrator für beide Adjektive das Konzept “psychische
Disposition” ist. Der Contrastive Focus besteht aus le-e “nicht,” der New Informa-
tion Focus aus pé-eš-ki-mi.

1.2.4 Foci
Während die Position des New Information Focus dem Satzende zu ist, können
Contrastive Foci an der Satzspitze erscheinen.
Tabelle 11.1.a Focus an erster position
Focus an 1. Gerichtsprotokoll Muwatalli Ritual 443 Telipinu Ritual 447

Position
insgesamt 1 10 10 5 4
Tabelle 11.1.b Focus gegen Satzende zu
Focus final Gerichtsprotokoll Muwatalli Ritual 443 Telipinu Ritual 447
insgesamt 23 51 81 41 41
Zum Vergleich die Anzahl der annotierten Texteinheiten und Tokens:
Texteinheiten Tokens
Muwatalli 177 2015

Ritual 443 163 1445
Telipinu 48 378
Ritual 447 105 835
In folgendem Beleg ist das Temporaladverb a-pí-a “dann” mit der additiven
Fokuspartikel ya- verknüpft:
(14) Muwatallis Gebet (CTH 381), Rs. iii 44

nu a-pí-i̯a- -i̯a dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-in
und dann auch Wettergott zum Blitz gehörig: ACC.C.SG
šar-li-iš-ki-mi
preisen: ITER.PRS.IND.ACT1SG
nu a-pí-i̯a-i̯a dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-in šar-li-iš-ki-mi
“Und auch dann preise ich (immerfort) den zum Blitz gehörigen Wettergott.”
Die Partikel setzt die kontrastiv betonte Konstituente “in eine quantifizierende
Beziehung zu typgleichen Konstituenten” (Thurmair 1989: 17). “Auch dann”

238 Lühr
i mpliziert “immer,” wie es auch in dem iterativen Verb šar-li-iš-ki-mi “ich preise
immerfort” zum Ausdruck kommt.
Fungiert -ya als Fokuspartikel, verbindet es sich mit dem Contrastive Focus,
wo immer dieses Wort im Satz steht. -ya ist also keine Wackernagel-Partikel
(Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 401).
1.3 Sprechsituation
1.3.1 Anrede
Entitäten der Sprechsituation sind Anreden. Vokative sind an der Satzspitze
bezeugt:
(15) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Vs. ii 43–44
[iš-ḫa-na-aš DUTU-]uš DIŠKUR-aš
Blut(N): GEN.SG Sonnengott(C): NOM.SG Wettergott(C): NOM.SG
qa-a-ša- -aš-ma-aš -ta B[E-L]U QA-DU DAM-
siehe euch dort Herr zusammen mit Ehefrau
-ŠU DUMU - -ŠU [ga-an-kán-za(?)]
MEŠ
sein Sohn: PL sein abwiegen: PTCP.NOM.C.SG

[iš-ḫa-na-aš DUTU-]uš DIŠKUR-aš qa-a-ša-aš-ma-aš-ta B[E-L]U QA-DU DAM-ŠU
DUMU MEŠ-ŠU [ga-an-kán-za(?)]
“Oh Sonnengott des Blutes, oh Wettergott, siehe, für euch dort ist der Herr zusammen mit
seiner Ehefrau und seinen Söhnen abgewogen.”
1.3.2 Sprecher und Adressat

Weitere Entitäten der Sprechsituation sind Sprecher und Adressat; vgl. das
Pronomen der 2. Person hinter einem Vokativ.
(16) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Rs. iii 50
a-iš EME-aš ga-ga-aš
Mund(N): NOM.SG Zunge(C): NOM.SG Zahn(C): NOM.SG
šu-me-eš az-zi-ki-te-en
ihr: NOM essen: ITER.PRS.IMP.ACT2PL
a-iš EME-aš ga-ga-aš šu-me-eš az-zi-ki-te-en
“Oh Mund, Zunge, Zahn, ihr esst.”
1.3.3 Anredefloskeln
Ferner erscheinen Anredefloskeln am Satzanfang; vgl. ka-a-ša “siehe”:


nu ka-a-ša am-mu-uk MNIR.GÁL
und siehe ich: NOM Muwatalli
LUGAL-uš LÚSANGA ŠA dUTU
König(C): NOM.SG Priester von Sonnengöttin
URU
TÚL-na Ù DINGIR MEŠ ḫu-u-ma-an-da-aš
Stadt Arinna und Gott: PL all: GEN.PL
ne-pí-ša-aš dUTU-i ar-ku-iš-ki-mi
Himmel(N): GEN.SG Sonnengott(C): DAT.SG bitten: ITER.PRS.IND.ACT1SG
nu ka-a-ša am-mu-uk MNIR.GÁL LUGAL-uš LÚSANGA ŠA dUTU URUTÚL-na Ù
DINGIR MEŠ ḫu-u-ma-an-da-aš ne-pí ša-aš dUTU-i ar-ku-iš-ki-mi
“Siehe, ich, Muwatalli, der König und Priester der Sonnengöttin der Stadt Arinna und aller
Götter, bitte den Sonnengott des Himmels.”
Und ḫa-an-da-an “wahrlich” mit Quotativpartikel:

ḫa-an-da-an- -wa DINGIRLIM šar-ku-uš
wahrlich QUOT Gott: NOM.SG erhaben: NOM.C.SG
UR.SAG-iš pa-ra-a ḫa-an-da-a[n-za DINGIRLU ]M
Held(C): NOM.SG völlig ordnen: NOM.C.SG Gott: NOM.SG
ḫa-an-da-an-wa DINGIRLIM šar-ku-uš UR.SAG-iš pa-ra-a ḫa-an-da-a[n-za DINGIRLU]M
“Wahrlich, der Gott ist ein erhabener Held, ein ordnender Gott.”
2 Wackernagel-Elemente
Betrachtet man nun Belege mit Wackernagel-Elementen, so ist die Anzahl der
Sätze mit solchen Elementen viel höher:
Tabelle 11.2 Distribution der Wackernagelelemente
614 Hauptsätze 523 mit Wackernagel-Elementen

109 Nebensätze 1. Ordnung 79 mit Wackernagel-Elementen
3 Nebensätze 2. Ordnung 2 mit Wackernagel-Elementen
Die Partikelkette hat bekanntlich folgende Slots.

240 Lühr
Tabelle 11.3 Slots in der Wackernagelkette (Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 410)
1 2 3 4 5 6
part/conj quot acc/dat.pl nom/acc.sg acc/dat.sg refl part

-(m)a -wa(r) -nnaš -aš.nom.sg.c 1. -mmu -za -ašta
-(y)a -šmaš -an.acc.sg.c 2. -tta/-ddu -apa
nu -šmaš.dat. -at.nom.acc.sg.n 3. -šše.dat -kan
šu -e.nom(/acc).pl -šan
ta -uš.acc.pl.c -an
2.1 Pronomina
Bei den Pronomina handelt es sich um zugängliche Information. Bezeichnet
werden Sprecher und Adressat und anaphorische Relationen mit dem Prono-
men der 3. Person. Die Reihenfolge der enklitischen Formen entspricht nur im
Dativ Plural der unmarkierten nominalen Abfolge von Dativ vor Akkusativ;
vgl. mit Substantiven:
(19) Ritual gegen unterirdische Mächte (CTH 447), A2, 27–28

nu A-NA LUGAL MUNUS.LUGAL DUMU.NITA MEŠ
und für König Königin Sohn: PL
DUMU.MUNUS DUMU.DUMU - -ŠU-NU pa-a-i
MEŠ MEŠ
Tochter: PL Enkel: PL ihr geben: PRS.IMP.ACT2SG

nu A-NA LUGAL MUNUS.LUGAL DUMU.NITA MEŠ DUMU.MUNUS MEŠ
DUMU.DUMU MEŠ-ŠU-NU pa-a-i
“Gib dem König (und) der Königin Söhne, Töchter (und) ihre Enkel!”
Doch schließen sich Pronomina in Slot 2 und 4 gegenseitig aus.
(20) aš-ma-ša-at “euch ihn” vs. -an-mu “ihn mir”
Vgl. mit -an-mu “ihn mir”:

nu am-me-el ku-wa-pí A-WA-TE MEŠ
und ich: gen wenn Wort: PL
DINGIR MEŠ iš-ta-ma-aš-ša-an-zi
Gott: PL hören: PRS.IND.ACT3PL
nu- -mu- -kán ku-iš
und ich: DAT.SG PART welcher: NOM.C.SG

i-da-lu-uš me-mi-aš ZI-ni

böse: NOM.C.SG Wort(C): NOM.SG Seele: LOC.SG
an-da na- -an- -mu
in und er: ACC.C.SG ich: DAT.SG
DINGIR MEŠ EGIR-pa SIG5-aḫ-ḫa-an-zi
Gott: PL wieder gut machen: PRS.IND.ACT3PL
nu am-me-el ku-wa-pí A-WA-TE MEŠ DINGIR MEŠ iš-ta-ma-aš-ša-an-zi nu-mu-kán ku-iš i-da-
lu-uš me-mi-aš ZI-ni an-da na-an-mu DINGIR MEŠ EGIR-pa SIG5-aḫ-ḫa-an-zi
“Wenn die Götter meine Worte hören, machen sie das böse Wort, das in meiner Seele ist,
für mich wieder gut.”
Mit Quotativpartikel und -at-mu “sie mir”:
(22) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), i 37
nu- -wa-ra- -at- -mu
und QUOT er: NOM.C.PL mir
GAM-an e-kir
bei sterben: IPF.IND.ACT3PL
nu-wa-ra-at-mu GAM-an ekir
“Sie starben bei mir.”
Den Grund für diese Distribution haben Agbayani and Golston (2012)
aufgezeigt:
Tabelle 11.4 Phonologie der Slots 2–4
Onset + coda No onset No coda
2 3 4
naš aš mu
šmaš an ta/du
šmaš at še
e
uš
e
Pronomina in Slot 2 gehen denen in Slot 3 voraus, so dass der auslautende Kon-
sonant von =naš und =šmaš einen Onset zu den mit Vokal anlautenden Pro-
nomina =aš, =an, =at, =e, =uš und =e bildet. Dagegen stehen Pronomina in Slot

242 Lühr
3 vor denen in Slot 4, weil dadurch ein Hiat vermieden wird: 4–3 *mu=an [mu.
an] mit Hiat.
2.2 “Reflexivpartikel” -za

Slot 5 der Partikelkette enthält die sogenannte Reflexivpartikel -za. Nach Ag-
bayani and Golston (2012) ist der semantische Beitrag dieser Partikel oftmals
nicht klar. Wegen ihrer idiosynkratischen und nicht-kompositionellen Bedeu-
tung nehmen sie einen syntaktischen Kopf an, der eng mit dem Hauptverb
verbunden und als besondere Zwischenschicht “little vP” innerhalb der Tem-
pusphrase u.a. für die Semantik des Subjekts ausschlaggebend ist.4
Für die hethitische Partikel -za sind jedoch die von Kemmer (1993) für das
Medium aufgestellten “Situationstypen” entscheidend (vgl. auch Kemmer
1994; Klaiman 1991; Fox and Hopper 1994; Lühr 2012). Sie differenziert folgen-
dermaßen (nach Kaufmann 2004: 8–9):
I. Reflexives Medium: Ein Partizipant übernimmt zwei Partizipantenrollen;
diese Rollen sind kaum unterscheidbar; z.B. Positionsveränderungsver-
ben: sich setzen, to sit down, πέτεσθαι “fliegen”; Fortbewegungsverben:
sich entfernen; to remove; indirektes Medium: πορίζεσθαι “sich etwas
verschaffen” – der Benefizient wird hier als koreferent mit dem Agens
interpretiert.
II. Emotions- und Kognitionsmedium: Die Partizipantenrollen sind nicht
unterscheidbar; z.B. Emotionsverben: sich erschrecken, to get frightened,
irascor; emotive Sprechakte: sich beschweren, to complain, queror,
ὀλοφύρεσθαι “sich beklagen”; Kognitionsverben: sich überlegen, to consi-
der, meditor.
III. Reziprokes Medium: Teilereignisse und Partizipantenrollen sind be-
stimmbar; z.B. natürliche reziproke Ereignisse: sich umarmen, to embra-
ce, amplector; natürliche kollektive Ereignisse: sich versammeln, to
assemble.
IV. Spontane und passivische Situationstypen; z.B. spontane Ereignisse: sich
bilden, sich auflösen, to evolve; passivische Ereignisse: the torch inflames.
Alle Typen erscheinen nun auch im Hethitischen.5 In unserem Korpus wird
z.B. eine Positionsveränderung durch EGIR -za bezeichnet:
4 vP ist auch für die Vergabe des Akkusativs ans Objekt zuständig, so dass zusätzliche Bewe-
gungen angenommen werden müssen.
5 Vgl. dagegen den recht-reflexiven Gebrauch: warpanzi-ma-wa-šmaš ŪL “but they do not wash
themselves” (KUB 16.34 i 8–9; Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 358).


ú-u[k- -ma- -z]a- -[ká]n dU
ich: nom aber REFL.PART PART Wettergott
pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-in EN- -I̯A EGIR-pa
zum Blitz gehörig: Herr mein zurück
AṢ-BAT nu[- -mu
ergreifen und ich: acc
TI-]-nu-ut
leben: CAUS.IPF.IND.ACT3SG
ú-u[k-ma-z]a-[ká]n dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-in EN-I̯A EGIR-pa AṢ-BAT nu[-mu TI-]-nu-ut
“Ich aber zog mich zu dem zum Blitz gehörigen Wettergott zurück, meinem Herrn, und er
ließ mich leben.”
Ein indirekt-reflexives Medium in:
(24) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), I 28
nu- -wa-ra- -at- -za
und QUOT er: ACC.N.SG REFL.PART
da-aḫ-ḫi
nehmen: PRS.IND.ACT1SG
nu-wa-ra-at-za da-aḫ-ḫi
“Ich nehme es.”
Ein Kognitionsmedium in:

[nu- -za fZI-an- -pát
und REFL.PART Zi(C): ACC.SG PART
ša-a-a]k
kennen: PRS.IMP.ACT2SG
[nu-za fZI-an-pát ša-a-a]k
“Erkenne die Zi!”
Auch Transformationssituationen kann man hier anschließen. Prozesse sind

Teilereignisse, die einen vorhergehenden Zustand präsupponieren und so eine
Veränderung signalisieren (Engelberg 2000). So erklärt sich nicht nur die
transformierende, sondern auch die transitivierende Funktion von -za; vgl.
etwa:

244 Lühr
(26) tarḫ- “die Oberhand haben” vs. tarḫ- + -za “unterwerfen” (Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 361)

nu- -mu- -za A-BU- -I̯A
und ich: acc REFL.PART Vater mein
DÙ-at dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-iš-
machen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG Wettergott zum Blitz gehörig: NOM.C.SG
-ma- -mu an-na-az da-a-aš
aber ich: acc Mutter(C): ABL.SG nehmen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
nu-mu-za A-BU-I̯A DÙ-at dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-iš-ma-mu an-na-az d-a-aš
“Mein Vater machte mich, aber der zum Blitz gehörige Wettergott nahm mich von der
Mutter.”
Dem Sinn nach ein Emotionsmedium ist d]u-uš-kat-ti + -za “freut sich”:

ÉMEŠ DINGIR MEŠ- -i̯a-at- -ta ku-e
Haus: PL Gott: PL und du: dat welcher: ACC.N.PL
[i-i̯]a-mi ša-ak-la-uš- -ša-
machen: PRS.IND.ACT1SG Ritus(C): ACC.PL und
-da ku-i-e-eš [i-i̯a-]mi
du: DAT welcher: ACC.C.PL machen: PRS.IND.ACT1SG
nu- -za- -kán dU pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-iš
und REFL.PART PART Wettergott zum Blitz gehörig: NOM.C.SG
EN- -I̯A pa-[ra-a d]u-uš-kat-ti
Herr mein hin sich freuen: PRS.IND.ACT2SG
ÉMEŠ DINGIR MEŠ-i̯a-at-ta ku-e [i-i̯]a-mi ša-ak-la-uš-ša-da ku-i-e-eš [i-i̯a-]mi nu-za-kán dU
pí-ḫa-aš-ša-aš-ši-iš EN-I̯A pa-[ra-ad]u-uš-kat-ti
“Welche Gotteshäuser, die ich dir gebaut habe, und welche Riten, die ich dir vollzogen
habe, (daran) erfreust du dich, zum Blitz gehöriger Wettergott, mein Herr.”
Die Beschreibung eines emotiven Sprechakts liegt vor in ar-ku-wa-ar [D]Ù-zi +

-za “ein Gebet richten an”:

ma-a-an UN-[ši] [me-m]i-aš
wenn Mann: DAT.SG Wort(C): NOM.SG
ku-iš-ki na-ak-ki-i̯a-aš-zi
irgendein: NOM.C.SG drücken: PRS.IND.ACT3SG
nu -za A-NA DINGIR MEŠ
und REFL.PART zu Gott: PL

ar-ku-wa-ar [D]Ù-zi
Gebet(N): ACC.SG machen: PRS.IND.ACT3SG
ma-a-an UN-[ši] [me-m]i-aš ku-iš-ki na-ak-ki-i̯a-aš-zi nu-za A-NA DINGIR MEŠ ar-ku-wa-ar
[D]Ù-zi
“Wenn einen Mann ein Wort drückt, richtet er ein Gebet an einen Gott.”
Auch eine überaus geringe “Elaboration der Ereignisse” wird mit der Partikel
-za bezeichnet, wie sie in prädikativen Strukturen mit nominalem Prädikats-
nomen bzw. Partizip gegeben ist:
(30) Šaušgamuwa-Vertrag (CTH 105), Vs. i 40–42

GIM-an- -ma- -za mNIR.GÁL-iš ŠEŠ
als aber REFL.PART Muwatalli(C): NOM.SG Bruder(C):NOM.SG
A-BI DUTU ŠI DINGIR LIM-iš
Vater(C):GEN.SG Majestät(C): GEN.SG Gott(C): NOM.SG
ki-ša-at
werden: IPF.IND.MED3SG
GIM-an-ma-za mNIR.GÁL-iš ŠEŠ A-BI DUTU ŠI DINGIRLIM-iš ki-ša-at
“Als aber Muwatalli, der Vaterbruder der Majestät, Gott geworden war…”
nu- -wa- -za a-pí-e-da-[n]i- -ya
und QUOT REFL.PART jener: DAT.SG auch
me-mi-ni iš-ḫi-ú-la-aḫ-ḫa-an-za
Sache(C): DAT.SG einen Vertrag machen: PTCP.NOM.C.SG
nu-wa-za a-pí-e-da-[n]i-ya me-mi-ni iš-ḫi-ú-la-aḫ-ḫa-an-za
“Auch jener Sache bin ich durch Vertrag verpflichtet.”
Auch Possessivkonstruktionen weisen -za auf:
(32) Muwatallis Gebet (CTH 381), Rs. iii 48

nu- -za ku-e-el wa-al-li-i̯a-tar
und REFL.PART welcher: GEN.SG Preislied(N): NOM.SG
nu-za ku-e-el wa-al-li-i̯a-tar
“Wessen ist das Preislied?”
Durch die Partikel -za werden also im Hethitischen unterschiedliche Grade der
Ereigniselaboration angezeigt.6 Das ist nicht idiosynkratisch. Dass sich dabei
6 Nach allgemeiner Auffassung ergibt sich bei der Unterscheidung der Partizipanten im Falle
der Ereignistypen eine Skala, deren positives Ende durch zwei Partizipantenereignisse und

246 Lühr
Kontrollverhältnisse wie beim Aktiv ergeben können, wie im Falle des “transi-
tivity toggle” mit tarḫ- + za “überwinden,” ist weniger maßgeblich, vielmehr
kommt es darauf an, anzugeben, wie sehr ein Partizipant in ein Ereignis invol-
viert oder davon affiziert ist. Dieser Partizipant wird in der Regel durch das
Subjekt bezeichnet, aber auch durch andere Kasusrollen wie den Dativ als Be-
nefaktiv oder den Genitiv und das Possessivpronomen als Possessivus.
2.3 “Lokalpartikeln”
Zur Statistik in den Korpora vgl.:
Tabelle 11.5 Distribution der Lokalpartikeln
-kan -šan -apa -ašta -an
Gerichtsprotokoll 4 – – – –
Muwatalli 34 2 2 – –
Ritual 443 24 29 – – –
Ritual 447 14 4 – 5 –
Telipinu 4 – 5 1 –
Gesamt 80 35 7 6 –
In gleicher Weise wie den Gebrauch der “Reflexivpartikel” -za halten A

gbayani
and Golston (2012) die Verwendung der sogenannten “Lokalpartikeln” für idio-
synkratisch. Sie verweisen dafür auf Hoffner and Melchert:
The particles -an, -apa, -ašta, -kan, and -šan belong to a single class of
sentence particles which modify the action expressed by the main verb
and its ‘adverbal’ adjuncts. The nature of that modification is disputed:
some thinking that it marks primarily local relationships … and another
… that it marks verbal aspect. These two viewpoints are not mutually
exclusive.
hoffner and melchert 2008: 364–365; vgl. auch tjerkstra 1999
Der Sprachgebrauch dieser Partikeln hat aber einen klaren Situationsbezug:

Die Proposition wird wie bei den Frames in eine Situation eingebettet. Auch
deren negatives Ende durch ein Partizipantenereignis gebildet wird. Reflexive Ereignisse
sind dazwischen angesiedelt (Kaufmann 2004: 9). Vgl. Hopper and Thompson (1980: 252):
Das Medium unterscheide sich vom Aktiv durch “transitivity.”

wenn sich, bedingt durch die jeweilige Situation, Bedeutungsschattierungen

ergeben, kann man bei allen “Lokalpartikeln” in der deutschen Übersetzung
das Wort da verwenden, lokal, temporal oder in der Bedeutung “in dieser Situ-
ation.” Über den lokalen und demonstrativen Gebrauch dieses Wortes hinaus
geht die Verwendung als Sprechhandlungspartikel, z.B.
(33)(a) Ich habe da gestern jemanden (auf der Straße getroffen).

(33)(b) Da haben wir’s.
Die Übersetzung von -kán mit “da, in dieser Situation” passt auf jeden Fall
dann, wenn in dem Satz ein lokales Adverbiale vorhanden ist:

šu-uḫ-ḫi- -kán še-er dUTU-i
Dach(C): LOC.SG SIT.PART auf Sonnengott: DAT.SG
me-na-aḫ-ḫa-an-da 2 GIŠ
BANŠUR
gegenüber 2 Tafel
AD.KID [k]a-ri-i̯a-an-da da-a-i
Rohrgeflecht bedeckt: ACC.N.PL setzen: PRS.IND.ACT3SG
šu-uḫ-ḫi-kán še-er dUTU-i me-na-aḫ-ḫa-an-da 2 GIŠBANŠUR AD.KID [k]a-ri-i̯a-an-da
da-a-i
“Auf dem Dach da stellt er dem Sonnengott (d.h. der Sonne) gegenüber zwei Tafeln von
Rohrgeflecht zugedeckt auf.”
Auch wenn eine temporale Bedeutung mitschwingt, wie in der Beschreibung

von emotiven Sprechakten, ist die Wiedergabe mit “da” gegeben. Mit einem
einfachen Verb vgl.:
(35) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), iii 35
mGAL-dU-aš- -za- -ká[n
GAL-dU(C): NOM.SG REFL.PART SIT.PART
A-N]A PA-NI DINGIRLIM
für Vorderseite: STAT.CONSTR Gott: GEN
pa-ri-ya-an ki-i IQ-BI
außerdem dieser: ACC.N.SG er sprach
mGAL-dU-aš-za-ká[n A-N]A PA-NI DINGIRLIM pa-ri-ya-an ki-i IQ-BI
“GAL-dU sprach da/in dieser Situation im Angesicht des Gottes außerdem das:”
Mit einem präfigierten Verb:

248 Lühr
nu- -za- -kán li-in-ki-ya
und REFL.PART SIT.PART Eid(C/N): LOC.SG
an-da kiš-an pí-e-da-aš
hinein folgendermaßen hinschaffen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
nu-za-kán li-in-ki-ya an-da kiš-an pí-e-da-aš
“Folgendermaßen sagte er da/in dieser Situation unter Eid aus.”
Etymologisch ist für die Partikel -kán wie für die Partikel -šan eine Entwicklung
von “dabei” (lat. cum < *kom; *som “zusammen mit”) > “in dieser Situation” >
“da” möglich; vgl. engl. at that. Die beiden Partikeln sind miteinander aus-
tauschbar (zur Literatur vgl. Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 373, 377). Vgl. Belege
mit -šan in lokal-temporalem Bezug:
(37) Ritual gegen unterirdische Mächte (CTH 447), B4, 5

nu- -uš- -[-š]a-an ḫal-zi-an-zi
und er: ACC.C.PL SIT.PART rufen: PRS.IND.ACT3PL
nu-uš[-š]a-an ḫal-zi-an-zi
“Und man ruft sie da.”7
(38) Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Nikalmati (CTH 443), Rs. iii 23–24
na- -at- -ša-an A-N[A DUMU MEŠ(?)
und er: NOM.N.SG SIT.PART für Sohn: PL
f]Zi [EGIR-pa ták-ša-an
Zi wieder zufügen: NOM.N.SG
e-eš-tu]
sein: PRS.IMP.IND.ACT3SG
na-at-ša-an A-N[A DUMU MEŠ(?) f]Zi [EGIR-pa ták-ša-an e-eš-tu]
“Es sei da den Söhnen der Zi wieder zugefügt.”
Mehr lokal ist der Gebrauch in:

ku-iš- -ša-an UDU ḪI.A-aš
welcher: NOM.C.SG SIT.PART Schaf: GEN.PL
ḫu-li-i̯a-aš nu- -uš
Wolle(C): NOM.SG und er: ACC.C.PL
7 Görke and Melzer 2015; Popko 2003: 39.

LUGAL-i MUNUS.LUGAL-ri
König(C): DAT.SG Königin(C): DAT.SG
MU KAM ḪI.A GÍD.DA pa-a-i
Jahr: PL lang geben: PRS.IMP.ACT2SG
ku-iš-ša-an UDU ḪI.A-aš ḫu-li-ja-aš nu-uš LUGAL-i MUNUS.LUGAL-ri MU KAM ḪI.A GÍD.DA
pa-a-i
“Was dabei die Wolle der Schafe ist, gib dem König (und) der Königin diese an langen
Jahren!”
Mit -kán und -šan im selben Satz, also austauschbar:
(40) Ritual gegen unterirdische Mächte (CTH 447), B2, 38–40

ma-a-na- -at- -kán ták-na-aš
wenn er: ACC.N.SG SIT.PART Erde(N): GEN.SG
DUTU-uš šar-ra-at-ta- -ma
Sonnengott(C): NOM.SG überschreiten: PRS.IND.MED2SG aber
nu- -uš-ša-an LUGAL-i MUNUS.LUGAL-i
und SIT.PART König(C): DAT.SG Königin: DAT.SG
Ú-UL ḫar-ap-ši
nicht eng verbunden sein: PRS.IND.ACT2SG
nu- -ut-ta ú-it-tu4
und dich kommen: PRS.IMP.ACT3SG
ke-e-el ŠA SÍSKUR [l]i-in-ki-ja-an-za
dieser: GEN.C.SG von Opfer Schwurgottheit(C): NOM.SG
e-ep-du
fassen: PRS.IMP.ACT3SG
ma-a-na-at-kán ták-na-aš DUTU-uš šar-ra-at-ta-ma nu-uš-ša-an LUGAL-i MUNUS.LU-
GAL-i Ú-UL ḫar-ap-ši nu-ut-ta-ú-it-tu4 ke-e-el ŠA SÍSKUR [l]i-in-ki-ja-an-za e-ep-du
“Wenn du aber, oh Sonnengöttin der Erde, es da brichst und dich da nicht für den König
(und) die Königin bemühst, soll der Eidgott dieses Opfers kommen, dich ergreifen.”
Dann mit -aš-ta wieder mit lokal-temporaler Färbung:

mI-la-l]i-ú-ma- -aš-ta [DUMU]MEŠ.É.GAL
Ilaljuna: NOM SIT.PART Palastangestellter: PL
[(pa-ra-a du-ud-da-mi-li u-i-)i̯(a-a)t
aus heimlich schicken: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
mI-la-l]i-ú-ma-aš-ta [DUMU] .É.GAL [(pa-ra-a du-ud-da-mi-li u-i-)i̯(a-a)t
MEŠ
“Ilaljuna schickte da heimlich Palastangestellte aus.”

250 Lühr
Und mit lokal-temporalem -apa:

[na- -pa mMur-ši-i-li-i̯a-aš]
und SIT.PART Mursili: GEN.SG
e-eš-ḫar DINGIR MEŠ-iš
Blut(N): ACC.SG Gott: PL
ša-an-ḫ[i-(i)r]
fordern: IPF.IND.ACT3PL
[na-pa mMur-ši-i-li-i̯a-aš] e-eš-ḫar DINGIR MEŠ-iš ša-an-ḫ[i-(i)r]
“Und da forderten die Götter das Blut des Muršili.”
Auch in Verbindung mit Imperativen kommen die situierenden Partikeln vor;

vgl. mit aš-ta:
(43) Ritual gegen unterirdische Mächte (CTH 447), A3, 18

na- -aš-ta KI-aš D
UTU-uš
und SIT.PART Erde(N): GEN.SG Sonnengott(C): NOM.SG
i-i̯a-an-ni
gehen: PRS.IMP.ACT2G
na-aš-ta KI-aš DUTU-uš i-ja-an-ni
“Geh da, oh Sonnengöttin der Erde!”

na- -aš-ta KI-aš DUTU-uš
und SIT.PART Erde(N): GEN.SG Sonnengott(C): NOM.SG
[(ki-i ut-tar aš-nu-ut)]
dieser: ACC.N.SG Wort(N): ACC.SG herrichten: PRS.IMP.ACT2SG
na-aš-ta KI-aš DUTU-uš [(ki-i ut-tar aš-nu-ut)]
“Und da, oh Sonnengöttin der Erde, dieses Wort mache wahr.”
Wieder mit -apa in einem verneinten Wunsch:

na- -ta- -pa
und er: NOM.N.SG SIT.PART
EGIR-pa li-e ú-iz-zi
wieder nicht kommen: PRS.IND.ACT3SG
na-ta-pa EGIR-pa li-e ú-iz-zi
“Und sie sollen da nicht wiederkommen.”

Überlegt man sich nun, in welchem Medium von Sprache situierende Parti-
keln zu erwarten sind, so ist dies die gesprochene Sprache:8 Partikeln sind ein
Merkmal dieser Sprachform. Demgegenüber gilt die geschriebene Sprache als
partikelarm.9
In der Tat könnten die vielfältigen Lokalpartikeln im Hethitischen einen Re-
flex dieser Sprachform darstellen und in die geschriebene Sprache übernom-
men sein. So finden sich die situierenden Partikeln in wörtlicher und zitierter
Rede und wirken da wie in der heutigen gesprochenen Sprache gelegentlich
als redundant. Vgl. mit Quotativpartikel -wa:
Im Aussagesatz in der 1. Person:
LUGAL- -ya- -wa- -kán me-mi-y[a-nu-u]š
König und QUOT SIT.PART Wort(C): ACC.PL
pa-ra-a Ú-UL ku-it-ki ta-me-en-ga-nu-uš-k[i-mi]
danach nicht irgendwie anheften: CAUS.ITER.PRS.IND.ACT1SG
LUGAL-ya-wa-kán me-mi-y[a-nu-u]š pa-ra-a Ú-UL ku-it-ki ta-me-en-ga-nu-uš-k[i-mi]
“Und des Königs Worte mache ich da in Zukunft in keiner Weise mehr unverständlich.”
(47) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), i 27–28
ANA LUGAL- -wa-ra- -at-
für König QUOT er: ACC.N.SG
-kán me-ir-nu-un
SIT.PART verschwinden: CAUS.IPF.IND.ACT1SG
A-NA LUGAL-wa-ra-at-kán me-ir-nu-un
“Dem König unterschlug ich da/in dieser Situation das.”
MUNUS.LUGAL- -wa- -mu ku-it EGIR-pa
Königin QUOT mir welcher: ACC.N.SG wieder
pí-eš-ki-it nu- -wa- -kán
geben: ITER.IPF.IND.ACT3SG und QUOT SIT.PART
Ú-UL ku-it-ki pí-ni-nu-nu-un
nicht irgendwer: ACC.N.SG geben: CAUS.IPF.IND.ACT1SG
8 “Lokalpartikeln” sind an der Situierung des “kommunikativen Sinns” von Äußerungen (vgl.
Löbner 2003) beteiligt (Brinker and Sager 2001). Damit gehen sie über die Charakterisierung
der räumlichen Bedingungen eines Sachverhalts hinaus.
9 Nach Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 365) finden sich die Partikeln -an und -apa hauptsächlich
in Texten, die während der althethitischen Periode verfasst wurden. Nachdem -an, -apa
und auch -ašta desolet geworden waren, wurden ihre Funktionen von -šan und -kan
übernommen.

252 Lühr
MUNUS.LUGAL-wa-mu ku-it/ EGIR-pa pí-eš-ki-it nu-wa-kán Ú-UL ku-it-ki pí-ni-nu-

nu-un
“Was mir die Königin jeweils übergeben hat, da/in dieser Situation ließ ich nichts
weggeben.”
In der 3. Person:
INIM wa-al-wa-ya-al-la-aš- -ma- -wa- -kán nam-ma
Sache Verleumdung: GEN.SG aber Quot part weiter
EGIR-an kat-ta pa-it
danach unten gehen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
INIM wa-al-wa-ya-al-la-aš-ma-wa-kán nam-ma EGIR-an kat-ta pa-it
“Die Sache der Verleumdung verschlechterte sich da danach aber wieder.”
Im Fragesatz haben “Lokalpartikeln” möglicherweise auch den Sinn von dt.

denn; vgl. in direkten Fragen:

[(ma-a-an mḪa-an-ti-i-li-iš MUNUS.LUGAL URUŠu-u)k-zi-ya
als mḪantili Königin Stadt Ḫukziya
Ú DUMU - -ŠU
MEŠ
[(EGIR-an ša-an-aḫ-ta
und Sohn: PL ihr nach suchen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
ku-iš- -u̯ a-r-a- -aš- -kán
wer: NOM.SG QUOT sie: ACC.C.PL SIT.PART
ku-)en-ta] [(GAL DUMU MEŠ.É.GAL ḫa-lu-kán
töten: IPF.IND.ACT3SG oberster Palastangestellter Botschaft(C): ACC.SG
ú-da-aš
bringen: IPF.IND.ACT3SG
[(ma-a-an mḪa-an-ti-i-li-iš MUNUS.LUGAL URUŠu-u)k-zi-ya Ú DUMU MEŠ-ŠU [(EGIR-an
Ša-an-aḫ-ta ku-iš-u̯ a-ra-aš-kán ku-)en-ta] [(GAL DUMU MEŠ.É.GAL ḫa-lu-kán ú-da-aš
“Als Ḫantili nach der Königin der Stadt Šukziya und ihren Söhnen suchte (mit den
Worten)
“Wer tötete sie da/denn?,” brachte der oberste Palastangestellte eine Botschaft.”

[nu- (-u̯ a- -kán pa-aḫ-)ḫa-aš-ḫa
und QUOT SIT.PAT schützen: PRS.IND.MED1SG
[nu-(-u̯ a-kán pa-aḫ-)ḫa-aš-ḫa
“Bin ich da/denn beschützt?”

In rhetorischen Fragen:
(52) Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater Ukkura (CTH 293), i 18–20
nu- -wa ku-it-ma-an I-NA KUR URUKa-ra-an-du-ni-ya-aš
und QUOT während in Land Babylon
pa-a-un []
gehen: IPF.IND.ACT1SG
ku-it-ma-an- -wa EGIR-pa ú-wa-nu-un nu-
solange als QUOT wieder kommen: IPF.IND.ACT1SG und
-wa- -kán EGIR-az wa-al-wa-i̯a-al-li
QUOT SIT.PART Rückseite: ABL.SG Verleumdung(N): ACC.SG
an-da Ú-UL ku-iš-ki pí-eš-ši-iš-ki-it
hinein nicht irgendwer: NOM.C.SG werfen: ITER.IPF.IND.ACT3SG
nu-wa ku-it-ma-an I-NA KUR URUKa-ra-an-du-ni-ya-aš pa-a-un [ ] ku-it-ma-an-wa EGIR-
pa ú-wa-nu-un nu-wa-kán EGIR-az wa-al-wa-ya-al-li an-da Ú-UL ku-iš-ki pí-eš-ši-iš-ki-it
“Während ich ins Land der Stadt Babylon ging…, solange bis ich wiederkam, hat da nicht
irgendwer hinterrücks Verleumdung vorgenommen?”
2.4 Partikeln der zitierten Rede

Vielleicht hat auch die Partikel der zitierten Rede – sie folgt in der satzeinlei-
tenden Partikelkette enklitischen Konjunktionen, satzverknüpften Partikeln
und topikalisierten Elementen – ihren Ursprung in der gesprochenen Sprache.
-wa(r) könnte in dieser Sprachform nicht nur der Einleitung der direkten Rede-
wiedergabe gedient haben, sondern in der mündlichen Kommunikation ein
Merkmal der sogenannten “animierten Rede” (Ehmer 2011) gewesen sein. Der
aktuelle Sprecher führt in einer solchen Rede ein imaginiertes Sprechereignis
vor, wobei die Inszenierung und Stilisierung fremder Rede eng mit den Bewer-
tungen der Sprechenden hinsichtlich der zitierten Figuren und Äußerungen
verwoben ist (Günthner 2002: 60). Solch ein Hinweis muss in der mündlichen
Kommunikation möglichst nahe am Satzanfang kommen, damit der Adressat
die mit der direkten Wiedergabe verbundene Kommunikationsabsicht richtig
versteht. Die Übernahme in die geschriebene Sprache, vor allem in historische
Traktate, Verträge, Annalen, Briefe, zeigt dann das Bestreben, in Textsorten, in
denen es auf den genauen Wortlaut von Zitaten ankommt, diesen als oratio
recta stets eindeutig zu kennzeichnen. Die Setzung dieser Partikel wurde so in
der “Kanzleisprache” regulär, als eine Art “stylistic standardization” (Fortson
1994, 1998).10
10 Zu einer Erklärung der sporadischen Setzung der Partikel -wa(r) vgl. Pecora 1984 (dazu
aber Fortson 1998).

254 Lühr
3 Partikeln und inkrementelle Syntax
Sind aber diese Überlegungen zu der Partikelkette in der Wackernagel-Position

richtig, so hätte man hier einen Fall von inkrementeller Syntax. Eine solche
Syntax folgt psycholinguistischen Befunden: In der gesprochenen Sprache
basiert sprachliche Produktion und Rezeption auf dem Phänomen der Pro-
jektabilität, das an die Zeitlichkeit der Entfaltung von Sprache im Gebrauch
gebunden ist. Bei einer inkrementellen Sprachverarbeitung hat ein Adressat
gleich nach den ersten Worten im Satz eine Ahnung davon, worum es im
Folgenden geht, und zwar unabhängig vom Kontext. Denn die fortlaufenden
Projektionen über den Verlauf einer emergenten syntaktischen Struktur

erlauben es dem Hörer, den entstehenden Redebeitrag ohne Verzögerung zu
prozessieren (Auer 2007, 2009, 2015).11
Für die hethitische Partikelkette besagt das:
Zitierte Rede -wa (oder Verben des Sagens)

Anschluss an Gegebenheiten der Pronomina
Sprechsituation und anaphorische
Wiederaufnahme
Grade der Ereigniselaboration in “Reflexivpartikel” -za
der Regel mit Bezug auf das Subjekt
Situierung der Proposition “Lokalpartikeln”
Lässt man die Vokative und Anredeformen an der Satzspitze beiseite, so ist
gegenüber den Sätzen ohne Wackernagel-Elementen, aber mit Textadverbien,
Frames, Contrastive Topics und Foci eine Syntax mit Wackernagel-Elementen
wohl adressatenfreundlicher. Die Wackernagel-Syntax wäre so ein unmittel-
barer Reflex der gesprochenen Sprache. Das könnte der Grund sein, weshalb es
im Hethitischen so viele Partikeln gibt.
Zusätzliche Abkürzungen
act Aktiv
C Commune
con Konjunktion
11 Dieser Aspekt wird u.a. auch in Hoppers Emergent Grammar fokussiert (Hopper 1987,
2001, 2011). Vgl. auch Hoffner 1986.

ipf Imperfekt
jh. junghethitisch
part Partikel
REFL.PART Reflexivpartikel
SIT.PART Situationspartikel
STAT.CONSTR Status constructus
sup Supinum
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Chapter 12
Hittite Historical Phonology after 100 Years

(and after 20 Years)
H. Craig Melchert
Abstract
On the centennial of Hrozný’s identification of Hittite as an Indo-European language

I review the major issues in Hittite historical phonology, in comparison not only with
his sketch of 1917 but also with my own treatment of 1994. After some methodological
preliminaries and an overview of major revisions required by the last two decades of
scholarship, I focus on the PIE syllabic sonorants. Hrozný (1917: 187) already tentatively
concluded that their regular outcome in Hittite was aR, and this has become the stan-
dard view, but he also entertained that syllabic nasals before stops could appear as
simply a. The demonstration by Goedegebuure (2010) that CLuvian zanta is the cog-
nate of Hittite katta ‘down’ has renewed the question of the development of the syl-
labic nasals before stops. Confirmation that in Hittite spells /o/, including in the
result of *wR̥ , also casts doubt on the alleged direct change of *wR̥ > uR by resyllabifica-
tion (Melchert 1994a: 126–127). I reexamine the entire question of the development of
syllabic sonorants in Hittite in the light of these new findings.
Keywords
laws of finals – nasals – orthography – phonology – sonorants – syllabification –

vocalism
I Introduction: Methodological Issues
A Hrozný’s Methodology
That Hrozný’s identification of Hittite as an Indo-European language was a
great accomplishment has never been seriously questioned. However, there
has been a longstanding and widespread narrative in Indo-European studies
that Hrozný relied too heavily on the etymological method, and that his analy-
sis of Hittite was only widely accepted when confirmed through combinatory

Hittite Historical Phonology after 100 Years 259
analysis by others, notably by Ferdinand Sommer (see e.g. the excellent histori-
cal summary of Eichner 1980: 123–124 with notes and references).
It is high time after one hundred years to put this canard to rest. A cursory
survey of his Glossar (Hrozný 1917 [2002]: 212–246) shows that Hrozný correctly
identified approximately eighty percent of the lexical morphemes; less than
fifteen percent are wholly incorrect. Of the latter, only his interpretation of dā-
‘take’ and dai- ‘put’ as ‘give’, of ḫar(k)- ‘have, hold’ as ‘take’ (also confused with
ḫark- ‘perish’ and ḫarnink- ‘destroy’), and of uwa- ‘come’ also as ‘go’ are truly
due to etymological assumptions. Others are simply predictable errors of a first
decipherment (Hrozný did have a particular problem in analyzing spatial rela-
tions, for a review of which see Frantíková 2015). It is true that Hrozný’s success
rate was obviously due in part to alternations of syllabically spelled Hittite
words with known Sumerian and Akkadian equivalents, but this fact merely
confirms that his method was mostly combinatory. Likewise, his successful
tentative interpretation of many words that were in 1917 hapax or near-hapax
necessarily resulted from an analysis of the context, not from presumed ety-
mological connections.
In sum, Hrozný employed a blend of the combinatory and etymological
methods, following what is a widespread and standard practice in the analysis
of newly discovered and only partially understood corpus languages. As was to
be expected, further study by Hrozný himself and by others corrected his most
serious initial errors within the next decade, but he had successfully estab-
lished the basic facts of Hittite grammar already by 1917 (for historical phonol-
ogy see further below).
B Interpretation of Orthography
Much recent study of Hittite phonology, synchronic and diachronic, has unfor-
tunately been based on the widespread pernicious false premise that all non-
random orthographic patterns must at all costs reflect linguistically real
contrasts: see e.g. Adiego (2007: 235–237), Eichner (1980: 143–144, note 63, and
149, note 73, and 1992: 57), Kloekhorst (2010: 204 and passim; 2012: 247, 2013:
passim, et alibi), Rieken (2010a: 305–307 and 2010b: 653 and passim), and Si-
mon (2012: 494 and 2013: 16, with note 37).
The preceding premise reflects a profound misunderstanding of how or-
thographies developed by and for native speakers—especially by and for
scribal elites—actually function. Nonrandom patterns (including those estab-
lished as statistically significant) may be due to a wide variety of factors:
established norms, aesthetic considerations (e.g. “initial-a final” and the spell-
ing of word-initial /a-/ in Hieroglyphic Luvian Anatolian hieroglyphs, as dis-
cussed by Melchert 2010c and Rieken 2015: 226–227), and pure convention.

260 Melchert
These features can be due to the actions of a single influential individual: with-
out knowledge of the existence of Noah Webster and no evidence for English
before the eighteenth century, one might assume that certain sound changes
took place between British and American English (-ise > -ize, -our >-or, etc.).1
Given the severe limitations on our knowledge of the Hittite scribal hierarchy,
we cannot preclude that certain Hittite orthographic practices (and changes
therein over time) are likewise the result of decisions made by a handful of
powerful chief scribes.
Some orthographic systems with a long history such as Modern English or
French naturally do reveal phonological changes through ‘historical spellings’,
almost always imperfectly due to earlier changes being overlaid by later ones
and resulting misunderstandings.2 However, suggestive but less than excep-
tionless orthographic patterns in Hittite and Luvian written in cuneiform can-
not be attributed to ‘historical’ spellings reflecting an earlier prehistoric stage
of the languages, because there is no basis for supposing that they were written
before the late sixteenth century bce (at the earliest; see now van den Hout
2009 for the claim of written Hittite only in the fifteenth century).
Therefore, while it is always proper and beneficial to periodically review
the status of particular patterns in the light of new evidence and arguments
(see Section ii.B.1 below for some examples), the validity of claims of linguis-
tically real contrasts depends solely on the degree of crosslinguistic plausibil-
ity, synchronic and diachronic, of the pattern of contrasts claimed. In the
absence of such plausibility, there is no basis for the claimed distinctions, no
matter how striking the nonrandom spelling pattern may be. An orthographic
pattern is merely a necessary, not a sufficient basis for assuming a linguistic
contrast.
II Historical Phonology
A Hrozný’s Presentation of 1917

Reflecting the true facts about his methodology presented in I.A above, Hro-
zný’s initial sketch of Hittite historical phonology (1917: 186–190) is predictably
correct in many respects:
1 Webster’s predominant role in establishing the norms of American English spelling is suc-
cinctly described in the Wikipedia entry https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noah_Webster (ac-
cessed February 12, 2016) under the section ‘Blue-backed Speller’.
2 For example, not every final ‘silent e’ in English reflects a true original final vowel lost by
apocope, though most do. Modern English horse is a prominent exception.

1 Consonantism
a. He identifies Hittite as a ‘centum’ language with merger of *K̂ and *K and
preservation of *Kw.
b. He concludes that*R̥ > aR (but also entertains some cases of *N̥ > a, based
on katta ‘down’ matching Gr. κατά—see further Section ii.C.1 below).
c. He recognizes that *s > z after nasal in anz- ‘us’ < *n̥ s-.
d. He notes that Hittite t continues *th as well as *t (i.e., in the Pret2Sg end-
ing -tta < *-th2e, as in ḫarta ‘you had, held’).
e. He assumes unrounding of *Kw > K before u (in kuššan ‘when?’ [recte
‘when’]).
f. He takes note of the change *m > n in word-final position.
2 Vocalism
a. He assumes a general merger of short and long *ō̆ with *ā̆.
b. But he notices the special change of *o > u before nasal in monosyllables
(*tons > tuš [sic!]).
c. Much of what is said about *ē̆ and *ī� ̆ is also correct.
d. He correctly derives zīk ‘thou’ < *tū (contra Simon 2018 et al.).
3 Weaknesses
These are mostly predictable, given the difficulties of cuneiform orthography,
Hrozný’s limited command of Indo-European linguistics, and no recognition
of ‘laryngeals’ in PIE:
a. There is no recognition of ‘Sturtevant’s Law’ or the general distribution of
voiceless and voiced stops.
b. There is no realization of the correct conditioning for *t > ts /__i or of the
PIE ‘double dental’ rule.
c. He derives Hittite ḫ(ḫ) beside k, g from dorsal stops with not even an at-
tempt to condition the alternate reflexes.
d. There is much confusion in the vocalism due to the problem of e- and
i-spellings in cuneiform.
e. His rudimentary account of diphthongs is far from clear.
One should, however, in all fairness acknowledge that points 1b, 2d, 3a, 3d and
3e remain subjects of controversy to this day (see below!), and point 3c was still
debated into the 1960s.
B Anatolian Historical Phonology Two Decades after Melchert 1994

1 Significant Revisions
New facts as well as new arguments made by a number of scholars have pre-
dictably falsified many claims that I made in my historical phonology of more

262 Melchert
than twenty years ago, compelling either complete retraction or varying

degrees of revision of analyses given there. The following selection aims to
acknowledge those of greatest import for understanding the (pre)history of
Hittite and for the reconstruction of Proto-Indo-European. The list is by no
means exhaustive. I note explicitly that some newer analyses based on obser-
vance of nonrandom spelling patterns have met the high standard of linguistic
plausibility demanded above in Section i.B. The convincing new arguments
that versus <ú> spellings reflect a real synchronic contrast in vocalism de-
serve special notice. The far-reaching implications of this demonstration have
undoubtedly not yet been fully recognized.
a Consonantism:
i. ‘Laryngeals’
(1) *h2w > Proto-Anatolian unitary *[xw] (Kloekhorst 2006a: 97–101 and
2008: 836–839): Hitt. tarḫu-/taruḫ- [sic!] ‘overcome’ = /tarxw-/ (no
variant †tarḫ- exists!); PA *[xw] > Lyc. <q> [kw], as in trqqñt- ‘Storm-
god’ < *tr̥h2wn̥ t-´, cognate with Luvo-Hitt. Tarḫunt-.
(2) *h3 is preserved in Hittite and Luvian medially as ḫ, at least after
sonorant: Hitt. walḫ- ‘strike’ < *welh3- (with LIV2: 679 and Kloek-
horst 2008: 946, contra Melchert 1994a: 50 et alibi); CLuv. tarḫ-
‘break, crush’ (sic!) < *t(é)rh3- ~ Gr. τρώω ‘wound’, etc. (Kloekhorst
2008: 838–839).
(3) As a corollary to (1) above, *h3w > PA unitary [ɣw] (spelled <ḫw> in
cuneiform) medially (Melchert 2011): Hitt. lāḫw- ‘pour’ < *lóh3w-
(source of the Core IE ‘root’ *leuh3- backformed from the metathe-
sized preconsonantal zero-grade *luh3-C- < *lh3u-C-, whence Gr.
λoέω ‘wash’ etc.).
ii. ‘Lenition’ rules of Proto-Anatolian
(1) Per Adiego (2001), we may and should assume a single rule of *T > D
(including *h2 [x] > [ɣ]) between unaccented morae, with *V̄ equiv-
alent to VV; thus *dhéh1ti > PA *dǽæti > *dǽædi > Lyc. tadi just like
abl.-inst. *´-oti > *´-odi > CLuv. -ati, HLuv. /-adi/ ~ /-ari/, Lyc. -edi.
(2) Contra Melchert (1994a: 69) this rule includes voiceless stops fol-
lowing *-ā́- < *-éh2-: *-éh2T- > *-áaT- > *-áaD-, as in *mnéh2ti >
*mnáati > mnáadi > CLuv. m(a)nāti ‘sees’ (with Starke 1980: 47 and
LIV2: 447 contra Melchert 1994a: 236); thus also most economically
*-éh2-tr̥ > *-áatr̥ > *-áadr̥ > Hitt. abstract -ātar (contra Melchert
1994a: 86).
iii. Alleged examples for a ‘limited Čop’s Law’ in Proto-Anatolian (i.e., *#é.
C1- > *#áC1C1-) are now extremely sparse and arguable (on Hitt. ammug

‘me’ see below). Existence of such a sound change is thus unlikely (contra
Melchert 1994a: 74–75 and 1994b).
iv. The three-way contrast of dorsal stops in Luvo-Lycian is due to a condi-
tioned split of palato-velars before their merger with velars, not an
unconditioned three-way contrast preserved from Proto-Indo-European.
Anatolian is thus, per already Hrozný, ‘centum’ (Melchert 2012a).
b Vocalism
i. Contra Melchert (1994a: 26), Kimball (1999: 79–80), Hoffner and Melchert
(2008: 26), et al., cuneiform and <ú> are contrastive, with stand-
ing for /o(:)/ (or similar) versus <ú> for /u(:)/, with Held and Schmalstieg
(1969: 105–109), Eichner (1980: 156), Hart (1983: 124–132), Rieken (2005)
and above all Kloekhorst (2008: 35–60), who presents the best formula-
tion thus far of the respective prehistoric sources. I insist that the con-
trast is also valid for Palaic and Luvian with differences only in detail (cf.
Melchert 2010a: appendix). Thus:
(1) /o:/ < *ow, in mu-u-ga-a-i- ‘incite’ [sic!] < virtual *mowkoye/o-
(Melchert 2010b, revising Kloekhorst 2008: 586), CLuv. zu-u-wa-
‘food’ < virtual *gyówh3-o- (Melchert 2012a: 212–213); also u- < *aw
‘away’ in u-i-ya-, originally ‘send/drive away’ [sic!] (Melchert
forthcoming).
(2) /o(:)/ < *u adjacent to *h2/3: Hitt. coll. pl. āššū (a-aš-šu-u) ‘goods’ <
*-uh2; cf. also Hitt. N-ASgNt šu-u-ú ‘full’ /so:(w)u/ < *séwh3-u vs. Pal.
šu-ú-na-at ‘filled’ < *su-néh3-t (for accent ‘retraction’ in the latter see
Yates 2015: 148–155).
(3) /o:/ also from *-óm(s)# > -Cu-u-un in ASg/Pl ku-u-un/ku-u-uš and
a-pu-u-un/a-pu-u-uš < *k̂óm(s), *obhóm(s) (Kloekhorst 2008: 54 and
57, revising Melchert 1994a: 186–187).
(4) But /u:/ < *ew with Kloekhorst (2008: 53–57), as in -nu-ú- < *-néu-
(wa-aḫ-nu-ú-mi ‘I turn’ and ḫu-e-nu-ú-ut ‘caused to flee’), ku-ú-ša-
‘daughter/son-in-law; bride’ < *ĝéuso- *‘chosen one’ (after Rieken
1999: 257), i-ú-uk ‘brace, pair’ < *yéug (Kloekhorst 2008: 423 after
Rieken 1999: 61–62).
(5) /u:/ also < accented *ú in an original open syllable: Hittite nouns in
-ú-ul < *-úlom with syncope (Rieken 2008).
(6) Hitt. ú-ug ‘I’ < *ūg(h2) with *ū ← 2Sg subject form *tū, vs. ammug ←
2Sg non-subject *tŭ (revising Melchert 1983: 161–163), contra Simon
2018 et al.
ii. There is no basis for an alleged PA phoneme */ẹ̄/ < *ey distinct from */ē/
< *ē (contra Melchert 1994a: 56, after 1984: 102–103, 112–113, and 143). Late

264 Melchert
Hittite ī for ē is analogical, per Yakubovich (2010: 315–318): nīya- for nēya-
‘turn’ after other ḫi-verbs in -i-; Dat-LocSg kīdani etc. after N-ASgNt kī
(note the absence of †apīd- < apēd-). In any case, oblique pronominal
-ed- is from *-éd-, not *-é/óyd-; see the concession by Melchert 2008: 369–
370 with references.
2 Significant Retentions
I continue to reject some new claims for alleged linguistic contrasts based on
orthographic patterns, because I find the contrasts linguistically implausible as
formulated thus far. I therefore note here explicitly that I retain some analyses
of 1994:
i. Consonantism
a. By the time of attested Hittite, Luvian, and the other Anatolian lan-
guages, word-initial voiced stops (including the reflexes of PIE
voiced aspirated stops) had all devoiced. However, the different
treatment of *#G(h)- in Luvian from that of *#K- shows that this
change is a post-Proto-Anatolian areal feature, per Melchert (1994a:
18–20). I reject the implausible claim of a partially preserved con-
trast in Hittite by Kloekhorst (2010).
b. I retain the formulation of ‘Čop’s Law’ in Luvian as given by Čop
(1970): *é.C1 > áC1.C1. Contra Kloekhorst (2006b), *ó.T does not regu-
larly lead to Hittite ā.D: see dākki ‘matches’ < *dók̂ei (the root has
no final laryngeal, per LIV2: 109) and ḫ(u)wappi ‘throws’ < *h2wópei
(also with no final laryngeal; NB Vedic past participle uptá-).3
c. Word-initial *h3- is preserved as /x-/ in Hittite and Luvian (with ini-
tial devoicing of obstruents per a.), except /__r. For Hitt. arai- ‘rise’ <
*h3róy-ei see Oettinger 2004: 402; see also Hitt. ar- ‘stand (up)’ <
*h3ér-tor, *h3r-óntor (after LIV2: 299); phonologically regular but
synchronically aberrant *ḫārta, *aranta was leveled to attested
ārta, aranta. The loss in both cases may be attributed either to the
‘Saussure-Hirt effect’ (so Oettinger) or a more general Hittite loss of
word-initial *h3- before *r.
d. There is no evidence for word-initial *h1 preserved as [Ɂ] in Hittite
and Luvian, contra Kloekhorst (2004, 2006a: 77–81 and 2008: 205
3 Kloekhorst (2014: 571–574) has made cogent arguments that the match in the stem between
Hieroglyphic Luvian Dat-LocPl á-pa-ta-za and Lycian ebette means that ‘Čop’s Law’ is not
exclusively Luvian, in which case we must actually define the change as Luvo-Lycian *°ĕ́C1V >
*ĕ́C1.C1V.

and passim) and Simon (2010 and 2013). On cuneiform #V-VC- spell-
ings see Weeden (2011: 61–68), and on initial a- vs. á- in Hieroglyphic
Luvian Melchert (2010c). The contrast of CLuvian a-an-na-an ‘be-
low’ as a freestanding a dverb vs. an-na-a-an ti-iš-ša-a-an ‘prepared/
ready below’ (preverb) and an-na-a-an pa-a-ta-an-za ‘under the
feet’ (preposition) argues decisively for synchronic lengthening un-
der the accent: /ánnan/ > [á:nnan] vs. /annán/ > [anná:n].
ii. Vocalism
a. Proto-Anatolian did have a long vowel distinct from */e:/ and */a:/,
conventionally /æ:/, that leads to /e:/ in Palaic and Hittite, but /a:/ in
Luvian, Lycian, and Lydian (Melchert 1994a: 56).
b. Accented short *ó lengthened in closed syllables in Hittite, but not
*á, different from the development in Palaic and Luvian (Melchert
1994a: 146).
C Case Study: The PIE Syllabic Sonorants in Anatolian and Hittite

There are (at least) four issues to be dealt with concerning the reflexes of the
PIE syllabic sonorants in Anatolian and Hittite. First, how late was *R̥ pre-
served? Second, what vowel was inserted in the change of *R̥ > *VR? Third,
what was the result of *wR̥ (and *KwR̥ ) between consonants (with word bound-
ary counting as C)? Fourth, does *N̥ always yield Hittite aN? I will address these
questions in reverse order, since the answers to the last two questions con-
strain those to the first two.
1. The last question may now be definitively answered as: no. Already Hro-
zný (1917: 187) gave the unmarked result as an (anz- ‘us’ < *n̥ s-), but he also en-
tertained a as the outcome before voiceless stop in katta ‘down’ < *k̂m̥ta (1917:
32 and 187) and akk- ‘die’ < *ŋ̥k̂-´ (1917: 174 with reservations). The demonstra-
tion by Goedegebuure (2010: 301–312) that CLuvian zanta means ‘down’
confirms that Hittite katta reflects *k̂m̥ta. For support for the derivation of akk-
‘die’ < *ŋ̥k̂-´ based on the weak stem see Melchert 2012b: 180–182, with note 15.
The conditioning given there for prehistoric syllabic nasals homorganic with
following stops is that they yield simple aN when accented and a when unac-
cented. This is compatible with what little relevant evidence is available, but
examples are so few that this formulation must be regarded as merely
provisional.
However, the accompanying account for prehistoric sequences of syllabic
nasal followed by nonhomorganic stop is problematic in two respects. First,
*ń̥-mh2yent- > amiyant- ‘immature’ (see Kloekhorst 2008: 172 for this shape as
the regular outcome) cannot be cited as an example, since it surely passed
through a stage *Vn-myant-, and the loss of the *n is part of a broader deletion

266 Melchert
of the dental nasal before *m and *w in Hittite: NB especially Hitt. kuemi ‘I

kill’ < *gwhénmi, where no syllabic nasal is involved (see Melchert 1994a: 168 for
further examples). Second, despite my blithe statement in the footnote cited,
it is hardly satisfying to suppose that syllabic nasals heterorganic with follow-
ing stops lead to precisely the opposite results posited for their homorganic
counterparts, namely a when accented, aN when not. With the irrelevant ex-
ample of *ń̥-mh2yent- > amiyant removed, we are left only with cases involving
putative *m̥ before nonlabial stop: katta ‘down’ < *k̂m̥ta/ō (~ Gr. κατά or κάτω),
katta ‘beside’ < *kḿ̥tV[+back] (with allomorph *kḿ̥ti in katti- ~ Gr. κασι- and Mid-
dle Welsh gennyf ‘with me’),4 and antarā- ‘blue’ < *m̥ dhró- (thus with Kloek-
horst 2008: 186 contra Melchert 1994a: 1215).
The preforms of katta ‘down’ and katta ‘beside’ must have been accented as
given, since an accent on the final syllable could only lead to †kattā. To derive
the adverbs from unaccented variants (Kloekhorst 2008: 604) is egregiously ad
hoc, since other local adverbs clearly reflect accented forms, e.g. Hitt. š(a)rā
from accented *sr-ó (thus also Kloekhorst 2008: 730). In any case, this would
not account for the difference between the adverbs and antarā-, where the syl-
labic *m̥ would also have been unaccented. What does condition the different
outcome in the two adverbs versus the adjective is an open question, but it is
far from assured that it is to be attributed to the accent. The inherited syllabic
*m̥ in the adverbs is assured by the Greek and Celtic cognates, but that in
andarā- is merely inferred. Dare we suppose that Hittite reflects rather
*modhró- like its Slavic cognates and that a prehistoric syncope led only sec-
ondarily to an *m̥ d- sequence? The ad hoc nature of this suggestion is manifest,
and I cite the alternative merely to show that we do not by any means control
the details of the development of *m̥ plus heterorganic stop. Nevertheless, the
different result in Hitt. katta and CLuvian zanta does assure that syllabic na-
sals were preserved into the prehistory of the individual languages at least in
nonfinal syllables and that the Hittite result of *N̥ is in some instances
merely a.
2. Per Melchert (1994a: 126–127) following Schindler, *wR̥ resyllabified be-
tween consonants or consonant and word boundary as uR. Such a change is
possible, but unmotivated. Further, it is now clear that u-ur-ki- ‘track, trail’ <
*wŕ̥gi- is /ó:rgi-/, so that we are not dealing with a simple resyllabification
*wr̥ > ur. There is other evidence for the lowering of *u > /o/ before r in Hittite:
4 Contra Dunkel 2014: 2.424 and 426, the clear association with katta would have surely blocked
assibilation in *kḿ̥ti. There is no justification for doubting that the Greek, Welsh, and Hittite
forms are cognate.

contrast Hitt. iš-nu-u-ra- ‘kneading tray’ < *isn-úro- with Pal. ta-šu-ú-ra-
‘sacrificial table’ < *dhh1s-úro-. Note also ku-u-ur-ka- ‘foal’ /ko:rka-/ < *kúrko- ~
Gr. κύρνος (Forssman 1980) and see Rieken 2005: 540–542 and Kloekhorst 2008:
55–56. However, we also find pít-tu-u-la- ‘snare, loop’ /pit:o:la-/ hypostasized
from *peth2-wl ̥ ‘thing spread’ (after Rieken 1999: 471–472 and Puhvel 1979: 211
and 2011: 71). Thus instead of resyllabification, we should assume rather
*CwR̥ > *CwoR > CoR (under the accent Co:R). That is, *R̥ > *oR, and in the pres-
ence of a preceding labial glide the *o is continued as the new vowel /o(:)/. The
conditioning *w is then lost by dissimilation. Likewise in Hittite *KwR̥ > KwoR >
KoR: hence the weak stem *kwl ̥s- > ‘incise’ > Hitt. gulš- /ko:ls-/ (etymology after
Eichner 1974: 67–68).5
There is, however, a conditioned exception to the rule just given before two
consonants, where the result is CwaR and KwaR with regular lowering of *o to
a, as shown by Kloekhorst (2007): duwarni/a- ‘break’ < *dhwr̥-né-h1-, dhwr̥-n-h1-´
(with leveling of the phonologically regular result *dornizzi, *dwarnanzi to
d(u)warnizzi, d(u)warnanzi), k(u)war(a)ške- ‘cut’ < *kwr̥-sk̂e-, k(u)waške- ‘slay’
< *gwhn̥ -sk̂e-.
Support for the assumption that it was *o that was inserted comes from oc-
casional <uR> for simple *R̥ instead of aR in Luvian and Palaic: note Luvo-
Hittite gurta- /kort/da-/ ‘citadel’ < *ĝhr̥-to- or *ĝhr̥dh-o- and HLuv. /tsornid-/
‘horn’ < *k̂r̥ng-id- cognate with Hittite *karkid- in karkidant- ‘horned’, both to
the base *k̂r̥ngo- of Skt. śŕ̥ṅga-. Also likely is Palaic ēšḫur ‘blood’ < *h1ḗsh2r̥ (see
already Melchert 1994a: 260 and 214, but with no independent support).
Lycian umlaut and syncope make it hard to determine whether *R̥ > oR in
nonfinal syllables is Proto-Anatolian or a Hittite-Palaic-Luvian isogloss. But if
we posit PIE *h1mé for the non-subject first person singular pronoun (see now
Simon 2012: 488–491 for further arguments in favor of the initial laryngeal),
then we would predict existence of a Lindeman variant *h1m̥ mé, whence with
secondary u-vocalism from second singular *tŭ PA *h1m̥ mú. If we assume that
this became *h1ommú with *m̥ > *om, this PA preform would lead regularly to
Lyd. amu (unaccented ẽ > a, per Eichner 1986: 211–212), Hitt. ammug, and Lyc.
e/ẽmu (also with umlaut amu). One should note that in absolute final position,
Hittite athematic preterite first singular -un < *-m̥ vs. nom.-acc. sg. neuter
n-stem ending -an < *-n̥ clearly contrasts with Lycian -ã from both *-m̥ (conso-
nant stem acc. sg. -ã as in lãtã ‘dead’) and *-n̥ (hrm̃ mã ‘temenos, land section’
< virtual *s(e)r-mn̥ *‘division’; Melchert 1994a: 309 and passim, after Innocen-
te). The Lycian reflexes show that the change *R̥ > *oR, if it truly was
5 The absence of spellings with scriptio plena directly showing the long vowel is due to the ex-
clusive spelling of the verb stem with the cvc sign <gul>. The word is unattested in OS.

268 Melchert
roto-Anatolian, was limited to nonfinal syllables, while the differing results in

P
Hittite and Lycian require that syllabic nasals remained in at least word-final
position into the prehistory of the individual languages.
3. The precise Hittite result of word-final *-m̥ # and the entire question of the
animate accusative plural ending -uš present intractable problems. As the very
thorough treatment by Kloekhorst (2008: 42–43, 56, and 609) makes abundant-
ly clear, the evidence is limited and frustratingly contradictory. A fully satisfy-
ing solution is at present beyond reach, but at least a new attempt seems
called for.6
We may begin with the result of final *-m̥ #. As outlined in Melchert (1994a:
181 with refs.), the preterite first singular ending -un in root verbs of the mi-
conjugation can hardly represent anything but*-m̥ # (thus also most recently
Kloekhorst 2008: 609). The athematic nominal animate accusative singular
ending -an must then be analogical to the thematic ending -an < *´-om. Per
above, following Kloekhorst (2008: 586), the regular outcome of final accented
*-óm was /-o:n/, preserved in the demonstratives ku-u-un /kó:n/ ‘this’ and a-pu-
u-un /abó:n/ ‘that’. Given the very sparse number of reflexes of oxytone o-stems
attested in Hittite, it is unsurprising that the result -an of the unaccented end-
ing was generalized to all o-stems, from which it was further spread to athe-
matic stems.
Harder to determine is whether graphic final <Cu-un> represents /-on/ or
/-un/. Kloekhorst (2008: 609) cites occasional New Hittite (NS) spellings of ‘I
took’ as e-ep-pu-u-un in favor of reading /-on/ as the regular reflex of *-m̥ #.
However, elsewhere (2008: 42–43), he acknowledges that the situation is more
complicated: ‘I went’ is spelled a few times pa-a-ú-un in Middle Hittite manu-
scripts (MS), but pa-a-u-un in NS. There he interprets this as showing a change
from OH /pá:un/ to NH /pá:on/, implying that the OH result of *-m̥ # was /-un/.
However, we should ask ourselves in the first place why an unaccented vowel
that was surely short was written with a ‘plene’ spelling at all. The dominant
spelling of ‘I went’ is pa-a-un at all times: even in New Hittite compositions it
occurs more than 100 times vs. only 9 instances of pa-a-u-un, all of which to my
knowledge are in texts of Muršili ii and Hattušili iii. Likewise, the normal
spelling of ‘I took’ is the expected e-ep-pu-un, including 19x in the New Hittite
corpus vs. only 5x for e-ep-pu-u-un, all in texts of Hattušili iii.
By any derivation, Hittite pāun represents a preform in which there was loss
of an intervocalic *y and a resulting hiatus (see for one account of ‘go’
6 The following remarks reflect further research undertaken since the oral presentation of this
paper. They are presented as, and should be received as, merely tentative suggestions towards
an ultimate solution!

Kloekhorst 2008: 617–618).7 Kloekhorst (2012: 248–250) has argued persuasive-

ly that in sequences of Ca-e-eC (as well as Ci-e-eC and Cu-e-eC) the -e- is not a
‘plene’ spelling indicating length of the /e/ vowel, but rather a mark of a pre-
ceding /j/ glide. Thus a nominative plural t/da-lu-ga-e-eš ‘long’ spells [ta-
lugajes] with a new hiatus-filling [j] (see also Kloekhorst 2014: 136–144 with full
evidence). When we also find in OS an accusative plural ta-lu-ga-ú-uš (KBo
17.22 iii 6) where a long unaccented vowel is unmotivated, I suggest that at least
some Hittite speakers likewise filled the hiatus resulting from loss of *y in a
sequence [a.u/o] with a glide [w] ([talugawu/os]), which OH scribes wrote
with <ú>. Similarly, MS pa-a-ú-un spells [pá:wu/on].8 I underscore that in both
cases there is no basis for supposing that the unaccented vowel of the final syl-
lable is long.
As noted, Kloekhorst (2008: 42–43) interprets the spelling change of pa-a-ú-
un to pa-a-u-un as a real change of /-un/ to /-on/, but offers no motivation for
such a change. One possibility for the orthographic change is that the spelling
of intervocalic [w] here was adjusted to that in medial sequences of [awa]. At
all periods of Hittite there were next to the normal spellings with <(C)a-wa-
a(C)> also some with <(C)a-u-a(C)>, whereas to my knowledge spellings with
<(C)a-ú-a(C)> are vanishingly rare. However, the spelling e-ep-pu-u-un sug-
gests another possibility. The ‘plene’ spelling here, which again cannot repre-
sent a true long vowel, is surely modeled on pa-a-u-un (with which it cooccurs
in the same manuscripts), where the has replaced earlier <ú> in marking
the hiatus-filling [w]. However, it is hard to see what would have led a scribe to
imitate the spelling in /é:p:Vn/, which had no [w], unless he also associat-
ed the in pa-a-u-un with the vocalism of the ending. I therefore conclude
with some reservation that the of both pa-a-u-un and e-ep-pu-u-un does
indirectly tell us that the ending was /-on/, the regular result of *-m̥ #.
I believe that the overall facts suggest a similar account for the animate ac-
cusative plural ending, but one must openly acknowledge that no reasonable
scenario can explain all of the attested examples, so one must inevitably
7 I hereby explicitly withdraw my own derivation (1994a: 177) via a nonexistent preverb *pe. I
would differ from Kloekhorst only in supposing that with an accented preverb the root was
in the zero grade, thus leading to the consistently short secondary diphthong in the OH
strong stem before consonant: virtual *póy-h1i-mi *[pój.Ɂi.mi] > *[pó.ji.mi]> *[pó.i.mi] > pa-i-
mi ‘I go’ [pój.mi]. However, in the Pret1Sg the result was a long vowel from accented *ó
in an open syllable: *póy-h1 y- [pój.ɁjVm] > *[pój.jVm] > *[pó.jVm] > *[pó:.jVm] > pa-a-un.
8 Kloekhorst (2014: 138–139) shows that the spelling Ca-e-eš is the dominant one, whereas
spellings Ca-ú/u-uš are relatively rare (see further below). This difference may well reflect
that the hiatus filling in [aje] was far more prevalent/regular than that in [awu/o], but this
does not prove that the latter is not real.

270 Melchert
d ismiss some spellings as erroneous. The degree of arbitrariness in the latter

procedure leaves any analysis less than fully satisfying.
We must take into account no less than four possible preforms: accented
*-óms, unaccented *´-oms, athematic *-m̥ s, and u-stem *-ums. We have seen
that the first yields Hittite /-o:s/, as in the demonstratives ku-u-uš ‘these’ and
a-pu-u-uš ‘those’, but the scarcity of oxytone o-stem nouns in Hittite makes this
an unlikely source for the general ending spelled <uš>. We find a few spellings
in both <u-uš> and <ú-uš>, but not all have the same status:9 those that reflect
athematic *-m̥ s can hardly show genuine ‘plene’ spellings indicating a long
vowel.
The distribution of <u-uš> and <ú-uš> in athematic stems is highly sugges-
tive. First of all, we find only <ú-uš> in i-stems: an-na-al-li-ú-u[š] (KUB 51.47 Vo
4; ?/NS); a-ú-li-ú-uš (KBo 25.178 i 2; OH/NS & KUB 24.3 ii 11; MH/NS), a-ú-li-ú-
š(a) (KUB 17.21 ii 18 MS/MS); NINDAḫar-ša-ú-uš (KBo 17.4 ii 17; OH/OS); kap-pí-
ú-uš (KBo 34.47 ii 8; MH/MS); ku-i-ú-uš (HKM 23:9; MH/MS; KBo 18.57a+57
Ro 2.Vo 42; MH/MS); ma-ši-ú-u[š]? (KBo 9.109 Vo 4; OH/NS); pu-u-ri-ú-uš (KBo
19.163 i 23.iv 4; OH/NS); šu-up-pí-ú-uš (KUB 33.41 ii 10; OH/NS); ta-lu-ga-ú-uš
(KBo 17.22 iii 6; OH/OS). One may note that all of these examples are either in
OS, MS, or NS copies of OH compositions. As argued above, I regard all of
these as spelling a hiatus-filling [w]: [kwiwVs], [xarsawVs], etc. They therefore
can tell us nothing about the quality of the vowel of the ending. The idea that
the <ú> is spelling [w] is supported by the complete absence of any spellings
<Cu-ú-uš> for the accusative plural of athematic stems ending in a consonant
(non-glide).
For the diphthongal stem lingāi- ‘oath’ one may cite the spelling li-in-ga-u!-
uš at KBo 4.4 i 45 (see CHD L-N: 64 for the reading) in the Annals of Muršili ii,
a New Hittite text. I tentatively regard this as showing the same replacement as
in NH pa-a-u-un for earlier pa-a-ú-un. That is, it is fundamentally spelling the
same hiatus-filling [w] as in the OS examples with -Ca-ú-uš, but also has been
adjusted to the vocalism of the ending, thus implying [lingá:wos].
Second, for u-stems we find mostly <u-uš>. Most importantly, we find it in
a-ku-u-uš-(ša) ‘(also) seashells’ to aku- (KBo 19.156 ii 17; OH/OS), where it may
reflect a genuine plene spelling for an accented long vowel: [agó:s]. Less
straightforward are the spellings [i-da]-a-la-mu-u-uš (KUB 8.67:14; MH/NS)
and [i-da-(a)]-la-mu-u-š(a) (KBo 15.10 iii 54; OH/MS), and the faulty pár-ga-u-
uš (KBo 3.8 iii 22; OH/NS). The last example is likely to be modeled on an
9 Forms cited are taken from Kloekhorst (2008: 56), supplemented by further examples from
my own files.

i-stem plural of the type of li-in-ga-u-uš. Likewise the aberrant plurals ḫal-lu-
wa-u-uš (KBo 26.135:2; OH/NS) and [ḫal]-lu-ú-wa-u-uš (KBo 3.8 iii 4; OH/NS)
to ḫalluwa- ‘deep’.10 It is less clear to me whether the instances with -Ca-mu-u-
uš are analogical to a-ku-u-uš or to the i-stem plurals.
What evidence we have suggests then that *-ums led to Hittite /-os/. I take
the solitary example of ḫe-e-mu-ú-uš to ḫēu- ‘rain’ (KBo 43.137:7; ?/NS) as
erroneous.
The most confusing picture is that presented by the oxytone a-stems: al-pu-
ú-uš (KUB 28.5 Vo 7; OH/NS); ir-ḫu-ú-š(a) (KUB 31.128 i 3; pre-NH/NS);
MUNUS.MEŠ
kat-ru-ú-uš (KUB 54.66 Vo? 13; OH/NS); and iš-ḫu-u-uš (KBo 15.31 i 14;
OH/NS). The last is nonprobative because after ḫ Hittite regularly has only /o/,
even from prehistoric *u (see Rieken 2005: 539 and Kloekhorst 2008: 51). This
also means, however, that ir-ḫu-ú-š(a) must be an erroneous spelling (compare
the hapax ḫu-ú-ni-ik-zi at KBo 6.2 i 16 OH/OS cited by Kloekhorst). Since we
also find rare exceptions even for the accusative plural of the demonstratives
(a-pu-ú-uš at KUB 14.14 Ro 21; NH), we can hardly put much weight on the ha-
pax legomena al-pu-ú-uš and kat-ru-ú-uš.
We seem thus to find /-os/ as the result of *-ums and probably also of *-m̥ s.
The first is compatible with other evidence for lowering of prehistoric *u to /o/
before tautosyllabic nasal (see Rieken 2005: 540 and compare Kloekhorst 2008:
54), while the latter is at least consistent with the outcome of absolute word-
final *-m̥ discussed above. Despite some spellings of oxytone a-stem accusative
plurals with -Cu-ú-uš, the evidence of the demonstratives argues that *-óms
also led to /-o:s/. We are left only with the question of the outcome of unac-
cented final *´-oms. The regular ending in Hittite is of course <uš>, as for all
other stems. Is this the phonologically regular result, and does it also represent
/-os/ or could it be /-us/? The latter seems unlikely: it would suppose that while
*-ums was lowered to *-oms and accented *-óms was maintained, just unac-
cented *´-oms was raised to *-ums.
Whether /-os/ was also the regular result of *´-oms is harder to answer, but I
would like to suggest that there may be relevant evidence. For the word derived
from wag- ‘bite’ that probably refers to a bite-sized kind of bread (thus ‘roll’ or
similar), there is clear evidence for an animate a-stem NINDAwagāta- (NSg
wagātaš OH/OS, ASg wagatan OH/NS, CollPl wagāta OH/NS), as correctly
identified by Hoffner (1974: 188). However, Neu (1983: 208), Rieken (1999: 196–
197), and Kloekhorst (2008: 940) all assume a primary s-stem wagātaš- from
which a New Hittite a-stem was somehow abstracted.
10 We would have expected *ḫallumuš for *ḫalluw-uš; compare nemuš for *new-us to
newa- ‘new’.

272 Melchert
An s-stem is highly improbable. First of all, the formation of collective plu-

rals to animate nouns is found only in Old Hittite texts (see Melchert 2000:
62–65 with note 36). The plural wagāta cannot therefore be a New Hittite cre-
ation. Second, while Rieken (1999: 197) concedes that there is no other support
for a supposed formation in *-eh2-tos, Hittite and Luvian provide ample evi-
dence for secondary stems in *-o-to- (Melchert 1999: 368–372). Since the singu-
lar may be used in Hittite with numbers higher than one, examples such as
KUB 25.9 iii 21–22 (OH/NS) are completely ambiguous between an a-stem and
an s-stem (pace Neu loc. cit.): 4 wagataš=ššan kitta ‘four w.-breads are lying on
it’. The entire basis for an s-stem consists of examples such as KBo 20.33 Ro 12
(OH/OS): [LÚKA]Š4.E taruḫzi kuiš 1 MA.NA KÙ.BABBAR U 2 NINDAwagadaš
pianzi ‘To the runner who wins they give one mina of silver and two w.-breads’.
While Hittite may use the nominative case as the ‘default’ case in lists (Hoffner
and Melchert 2008: 243), that usage cannot apply here, where both nouns are
clearly the direct object of the verb.
However, such examples do not justify the ad hoc assumption of an s-stem
that is morphologically unparalleled in Hittite instead of the well supported
a-stem. We need only suppose an animate accusative plural with an archaic
ending -aš < *´-oms: the plene spelling in wagāta- suggests that the accent was
on the penultimate syllable.11 In the absence of other examples for an OH ac-
cusative plural ending -aš I certainly do not insist on this analysis, but it elimi-
nates the unmotivated s-stem and is not contradicted by any facts.12
In conclusion, we may admire the impressive first step in delineating Hittite
historical phonology achieved by Hrozný in 1917, based on a very limited and
still imperfectly understood Hittite text corpus. We must also humbly concede
that by no means have all of the issues yet been resolved after a full century,
and much work remains to be done.
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(see above), one should likely follow Rieken (1999: 197) in supposing that the immediate
base of the *-to- stem was a collective *we/og-eh2-.
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European Linguistics 3, 145–187.

Chapter 13
duttarii ̯ata/i- and Some Other Indo-European

MUNUS/f
Maidens
Veronika Milanova
Abstract
The word MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- discovered in three Hittite texts (KUB 22.40 iii 18, Bo 4120
r. col. 4, and KBo 24.126 obv. 28) is a valuable and fascinating attestation because it may
be a reflex of *dhugh2tḗr, one of the few PIE kinship terms preserved in Anatolian.
However, the exact meaning, function and origin of this word in Hittite are questions
of debate. The determinative MUNUS indicates that the word cannot be interpreted
simply as an appellative ‘daughter’ but must be either a profession or a personal name
of a woman. Admitting that duttarii̯ata/i- could be a PN, I argue that this word could
also be a sacred title designating a maiden/virgin priestess, a post for well-born girls,
which existed in some IE cultures.
Keywords
Hittite – Luwian – Greek – female priesthood – kinship terms – age grades – semantic
change
1 Morphology
According to Starke (1987: 253–254), the base of the borrowed Hittite form
duttarii̯ata/i- must be Luwian (*)duttar(i)1 (<< *dhugh2ter-),2 which is probably
attested in Bo 4120 r. col. 4 (ibid.: 251–252). It can be a formation similar to
1 Not all scholars agree that the form duttari can be viewed as attested. Unlike Starke (1987),
who interprets the fragment -]an-zi MUNUSdu-ut-tar-i̯a-ta-as!-kan (Bo 4120 r. col. 4) as
‘…duttari̯a (dat. sg.)// t⸗aš⸗kan …’ (ibid.: 251), HEG (T: 472) assumes that here we are dealing
with the form duttari̯ataš.
2 E.g., Ved. duhitár-, Av. dugǝdar-, Arm. dowstr, Gr. θυγάτηρ, Osc. futír, Goth. dauhtar, Gaulish
duχtir, OLith. (gen.sg.) dukterés, OCS dŭšti, Toch. A ckācar, Toch. B tkācer (cf. IEW 277; EIEC
147–148; NIL 126–130).

278 Milanova
Luwian stems with i-mutation (ašri- ‘woman’, ān̆ ni- ‘mother’, etc.) modified by
a genitival suffix -i(i̯a)- as in tadiya- ‘paternal’ (cf. Yakubovich 2015: §6.2).
Therefore, the meaning of *duttari(i̯a)- might have been something like ‘be-
longing to the daughter’ (cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 904). The idea of appurtenance
can also be understood as belonging to a certain group or type of people or
possessing certain character traits.3
As for the final element, it seems most likely that it can be associated with
the Luwian suffix -tt(i)- / -d(i)-, which extended nouns, especially nouns denot-
ing people. An application of this suffix obviously had no significant effect on
the meaning, judging by, e.g., Luw. ann(i)- vs. HLuw. MATER-nat(i)- (=
*annat(i)-), in both cases ‘mother’ (cf. Starke 1980: 76–77, Plöchl 2003: 57,
Zehnder 2010: 96).4
2 Was duttarii ̯ata/i- a Personal Name? A Syntactic Problem
The determinative MUNUS shows that the word cannot be a common noun,
but is either a personal name (PN) or a designation of some female profession.
The main argument of those who prefer to interpret MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- as a PN
is the position of iu̯ ar in KBo 24.126 obv. 28:
(27) mān ani-UD.KAM-ti U[D.KAM-z]a SIG 5-ešzi nu⸗šmaš muraḫešmaš

fpiḫa-IR-i[šš⸗a]
(28) arḫa anii̯anzi arḫa⸗ma⸗šmaš iu̯ar MUNUS/fdutarii ̯atii ̯aš
𒑊parattašattan anii̯anzi namma⸗za⸗aš MUNUS.LUGAL piran gam

(29)
teḫḫi
(30)
n⸗aš u̯ atarnaḫmi n⸗aš a[rḫ]a ˹KASKAL-šiaḫmi˺ mān⸗ma⸗šmaš ŪL
kuitki ḪUL-uešzi
(31) [nu KI]N SIG 5-ru
KBo 24.126 obv. 27–31
(27) If today the day is propitious, Uraḫešma and Piḫa-IR-i

(28) will ritually purify themselves. The way d/Duttariyati (?) (does it),
from them (29) they will ritually remove the impurity (or: ‘They will
3 For instance, Ilya Yakubovich (p.c.) suggests interpreting this form as ‘daughter-like’ or
‘girl-like’.
4 Although the effect is usually not dramatic, it can still be perceived in some cases: Luw. huha-
‘grandfather’ vs. HLuw. huhad(i)- ‘great-grandfather’ (cf. Plöchl 2003: 57), wan(i)- ‘woman’ vs.
wanatti- ‘woman, wife’ (Ilya Yakubovich, p.c.).

MUNUS/f
duttarii̯ata/i- and Some Other Indo-European Maidens 279
ritually remove (it) from them like the curse of d/Duttariyati (?)’).
After that I will lead them to the queen (or ‘…I, the queen, will order
them to come to me’)
(30) and I will instruct them and will set them on the way. If nothing bad
is going to happen to them,
(31) the KIN-oracle should be positive.
cf. HEG T: 471–474, P: 449; CHD Pa: 141; van den hout 1995: 119–120
The syntactic behaviour of iu̯ ar was discussed by Hoffner (1993). According to

him, the normal word order should be ‘genitive noun + iu̯ ar’ as in:
[nu⸗ta⸗…] ŠEŠ.MEŠ-aš iu̯ar piran iyantaru “Let them go before [you] like
brothers”
KBo 10.12 iii 10, quoted in hoffner 1993: 41
Nonetheless, in NH (not before Hattušili iii) this indeclinable form occurs as a

preposition and is always followed by a logogram or a PN (ibid.: 47–48):
nu iu̯ar UDU ḫalziškanzi “And they bleat like sheep” (KUB 59.60 iii 14)
iu̯ar mManini “like Manini” (KUB 5.1 i 43)
This is the reason why MUNUSduttariyatii̯aš in KBo 24.126 obv. 28 is believed to be

a PN (fduttarii̯ata/i-). Moreover, similar names (or sobriquets) are attested in
Hittite and Luwian: fAnni (anna- ‘mother’) and mZiti (Luw. zidi- ‘man’) (quoted
in HEG T: 471). Still, I would avoid drawing hasty conclusions, because Hoff-
ner’s observation (p. 47) includes another important point: the noun following
the prepositional iu̯ ar must occur in a stem form. The word duttariyatii̯aš is
however not a stem form, but contains a case ending (genitive). Unfortunately,
Hoffner did not include this example in his analysis. It is accordingly not quite
clear how one should interpret iu̯ ar here and whether the question concerning
the syntactic behaviour of prepositional iu̯ ar can be considered completely
solved.
3 duttarii ̯ata/i- as Female Ritual Practitioner
Even if we admit that MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- might have been a PN, we should

also take into consideration other possible interpretations. The unpublished
text (Bo 4120 r. col. 4) does not give much information about the context, apart
from being obviously a description of a ritual. However, the text quoted above
(KBo 24.126 obv. 27–31) and especially KUB 22.40 iii 16–20, in which the 36th

280 Milanova
day of the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM SAR Festival is described (Haas 1994: 820), clearly show
that this character must be associated with a purification ritual and is probably
a priestess or a temple attendant of some sort:
(16) [GIM-a]n⸗ma⸗kan kī karaptari nu dUTU URUPÚ-na

(17) [KASKAL-az] SUD-anzi PANI dUTU URUPÚ-na 𒑊ḫuu̯ alliš kiš
tanuanzi
(18) [na]mma DINGIRLUM MUNUSduttariyatiš 𒑊naniti kangatiti
(19) [na]mma ANA dUTU SISKUR pianzi GIM-an⸗ma MUNUS.LUGAL
(20) [IN]A URUankuu̯ a ari nu⸗kan ANA dUTU URUPÚ-na mukiššar tianzi
KUB 22.40 iii 16–20
(16) As soon as it is finished, (they) take the Sun Goddess of Arinna

(17) from the way (road?). Before the Sun Goddess of Arinna (they) ex-
tinguish cones (?).
(18) After that a girl5 (?) appeases (?) the divinity and treats (it) with the
gangati-plant.
(19) Then (they) offer the Sun Goddess a sacrifice. And as soon as the
Queen
(20) arrives in Ankuwa, (they) put the invocation to the Sun Goddess of
Arinna.
cf. starke 1987: 252; CHD L/N: 325a; HEG i: 484–485; christiansen 2006: 99
Female priesthood is known to have been a well-established institution in the

Hittite kingdom. Women not only took part in rituals, but often were also their
authors. The names of some prominent practitioners were preserved in ritual
texts written syllabically, usually accompanied by a logographic designation of
their function, for instance MUNUSŠU.GI (‘old/wise woman’) fTunnawi or
MUNUS
SUḪUR.LÁ (hierodule/ temple attendant) fKuwattalla (cf. Hawkins 2003:
138 and Hutter 2003: 225, 245, 247–250, 253–256). These examples allow us to
assume that if the word MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- denoted a practitioner, it was hid-
den behind a logogram in most texts.6
The most obvious logographic counterpart of MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- suggested
by Starke (1987: 252) could be a designation of a functionary DUMU.MUNUS
5 It seems rather unlikely that a personal name of some low-ranked practitioner would appear
in a prescriptive ritual text meant for many generations to come.
6 This might be the reason why iu̯ ar was used as a preposition in KBo 24.126 obv. 28: while re-
writing an older text, the scribe probably copied its syntax but for some reason decided to
write the functionary designation syllabically. It is also possible that the scribe perceived
MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- as a foreign element; that is why he treated it as a logogram or a PN.

MUNUS/f
(šuppeššara-) ‘purified/consecrated girl/daughter’ who took part in Paskuwat-

ti’s and Anniwiyani’s Rituals,7 and in the Festival of the Hattic goddess
Titiwatti.8 Although this assumption is not in accord with the evidence from
KBo 20.101 Rs.? 3 DUMU.MUNUS-la-an (acc. sg.), which shows that the Hittite
word for ‘daughter’ ends in -la, it cannot be abandoned altogether, since as
Weeden (2011: 204) suggests, this logogram could have more than one Hittite
reading.
The text KBo 20.101 Rs.? 3 (…dḫalkin DUMU.MUNUS-lan dḫalkin…) is an
extract from a ritual of the corn mother (grain goddess) Ḫalki and her daughter
(young seed) of the same name, who represented a similar mother-daughter
concept to the Greek dyad Demeter and Kore (Haas 1994: 306, 447). Therefore,
the word X-la-an9 apparently expresses a general notion and should be either
a kinship term (‘daughter’) or simply a designation of a female child (thus
‘(mother) Ḫalki (and) baby girl Ḫalki’). The Luwian form (*)duttar(i)- may have
started out with a fairly similar basic meaning ‘a young female’, but its deriva-
tive duttarii̯ata/i- then came to refer to very special girls, namely to those who
were involved in rituals. The logogram DUMU.MUNUS could still stand for
both of these words and notions. However, in the latter case it would need an
explanatory epithet such as šuppeššara-, i.e., the girl who is sacred (consecrat-
ed), not profane, not just any girl or young woman.10
Like a number of religious, political, and ideological terms (e.g. the royal ti-
tles labarna < *tabarna < *dhabhro-no- (lit. ‘the powerful one’) and tau̯ ananna
< *(s)téh2- u̯ en(o)- (lit. ‘the righteous one’), cf. Melchert 2003a: 18–20; Yakubov-
ich 2010: 227–239; Rieken 2015), MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- was most probably a L uwian
borrowing (Melchert 1993: 238), more precisely a title of a priestess, and its
usage in Hittite was restricted to ritual contexts. It is also conspicuous that in
the same passages we find other uncommon words, which are even marked
with a Glossenkeil (𒑊pa-ra-at-ta-ša-at-ta-an in KBo 24.126 obv. 29; 𒑊ḫu-wa-al-
liš and 𒑊na-ni-ti in KUB 22.40 iii 17/18, see above).
7 CTH 406 and CTH 393, quoted and discussed in Collins (forthcoming) and in her paper
in this volume.
8 CTH 639, quoted and discussed in Taggar-Cohen 2006: 317–320.
9 The corresponding Hittite word was presumably pulla-. It might have an etymological
connection to Osc. puklo- ‘child’ and Lat. pullus ‘nestling’ and might refer to both sons and
daughters, as well as to both boys and girls depending on context like Gr. παῖς (cf. Melchert
1980; Starke 1987: 243–244 n. 3; Hoffmann 1992: 292–293).
10 In my article I adopt Collins’ interpretation of DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara ‘consecrated
girl/daughter’, not specifically ‘virgin’ in a medical sense.

282 Milanova
4 Consecrated Girls in Ancient Greece
In order to imagine a maiden priestess more vividly, we should take a look at

another IE religious tradition. In Ancient Greece, women were barred from
political activity, but their part in religion and ritual was substantial. A key role
in it belonged to young girls from noble families. This tradition is even reflect-
ed in Greek drama, as in the following extract from a comedy of Aristophanes,
where Athenian women describe the ritual experiences they went through as
young girls.
(641–642) ἑπτὰ μὲν ἔτη γεγῶσ' εὐθὺς ἠρρηφόρους (643–644) εἶτ' ἀλετρὶς ἦ
δεκέτις οὖσα Βραυρωνίοις (645) καταχέουσα (or: καὶ χέουσα) τὸν κροκωτὸν
ἄρκτος ἦ τἀρχηγέτι (646) κἀκανηφόρουν ποτ' οὖσα παῖς καλὴ 'χουσ’ (647)
ἰσχάδων ὁρμαθόν
As soon as I was seven years old, I was an Arrephoros;

then I was a Grinder; when I was ten, at the Brauronia,
I shed my saffron gown as one of the Foundress’s Bears;
and I was once a basket-bearer, a beautiful girl, wearing a string of dried
figs.
aristophanes, Lysistrata 641–647, ed. and tr. by sommerstein 1990: 82–83
The first consecration mentioned is ἀρρηφορία. The ἀρρηφόροι were two

selected girls between the ages of 7 and 11, who were to spend one year on the
Acropolis under the supervision of the priestess of Athena Polias and to per-
form ritual duties. One of their duties was the weaving of the Panathenaic robe
for Athena (cf. Burkert 1977: 155–156). The second rite was ‘the sacred grinding’,
although scholars are not sure to which goddess it was devoted (see the discus-
sion in Sommerstein 1990: 188–189).
Ἀρκτεία was a consecration held once every four years and devoted to Arte-
mis (cf. Burkert 1977: 394–395, Dowden 1989: 24–32; Sommerstein 1990: 189;
Poulkou 2006: 155–158 with references). It was a mass event and was associated
with the onset of female puberty. Some scholars (Dowden 1989) believe that
this rite was very similar to primordial female puberty rites (cf. van Gennep
1909). Girls who took part in it were usually between 5 and 10 years old. How-
ever, the ‘ideal’ age was obviously 10, because after this consecration a girl was
deemed eligible to be proposed to.
The last sacred post for girls mentioned in the text is κανηφόρος (‘basket-
bearer’). This was a girl selected to lead the procession to sacrifice at major
festivals (such as the Παναθήναια) and bear the ritual basket (κανοῦν) containing

MUNUS/f
a knife and other ritual requisites for a sacrifice. Such a girl was usually be-
tween 12 and 15 years old, thus approaching the age of marriage (Sourvinou-
Inwood 1988: 54–56, Sommerstein 1990: 190).
I assume that Hittite consecrations for girls were typologically and function-
ally similar to these Greek rites and were aimed at socialisation of adolescent
girls and renewal of the entire community. Dowden (1989: 129–133, esp. 132)
believes that although this practice is only attested in some IE cultures and has
usually lost either its original sense (Vestal Virgin in Rome) or its communal
significance (in Indian culture; see, e.g., Lynn 1978), it cannot be excluded that
it ultimately has PIE roots.
5 *dhugh2ter- in Anatolian: ‘daughter’, ‘girl’ or Both?
Because we cannot interpret duttarii̯ata/i- as specifically ‘daughter’, another

important question arises. What original meaning did the Luwian (or, in gen-
eral, Anatolian) reflex of the PIE word *dhugh2ter- have? Was it an age grade
(‘girl’), a kinship term (‘daughter’), or perhaps both? And if both, why could it
be so? This question can have three possible answers.
First of all, MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- might have really been a priest’s or a priest-
ess’s daughter (in which case this word underwent the same semantic
change as Engl. queen) or symbolically represented some god’s daughter.
Moreover, similar titles are attested in Hittite texts: e.g., MUNUSšiu̯ anzanna-
(= MUNUSAMA.DINGIR) ‘divine mother’ or ‘mother of a god’.11
Secondly, one can imagine that the meaning ‘daughter’ was extended to
‘girl’. On the one hand, occasional usage of kinship terms for addressing
strangers (mostly in non-neutral-style utterances) is a widespread phenome-
non attested in many languages (cf. Hentschel 2012). Thus in the ancient Near
East (including the Hittite kingdom), usage of kinship terms in a non-kinship
context often reflected the power structure: the one who was referred to as
‘son/daughter’ was an inferior, as ‘father/mother’ a superior, and as ‘brother/
sister’ an equal (cf. Hoffman 2010: 148–164). On the other hand, the semantic
shift (extension) ‘kinship term proper > kinship term improper’12 is fairly rare13
11 Taggar-Cohen (2006, 364) suggests interpreting the element AMA (= anna) in this com-
pound not as ‘mother’ but as ‘mature/fertile female’.
12 This term can refer to such words as ‘boy’, ‘girl’, ‘man’, ‘woman’, ‘bride’, ‘bridegroom’ i.e.,
words that can potentially become kinship terms or can be used as such in some contexts
(Dahl & Koptjevskaja-Tamm 2001: 3–4).
13 Semantic change in kinship terms and their interaction with words from neighbouring
semantic fields is still a research gap in linguistics. That is why I have almost nothing to

284 Milanova
and usually takes place in languages whose natural, i.e. internal development
has been heavily disturbed by some external influence. NPers. (doxt)ar ‘girl/
daughter’ and pesar ‘boy/son’ (Junker and Alavi 1967: 301–302) is one example
of this semantic extension,14 which most likely took place due to hybridisation
of New Persian, its massive extensive and profound contact with neighbouring
languages (Gernot Windfuhr, p.c.) such as Arabic (bint and ibna ‘girl/daughter’,
Cameron 1979: 28), Turkic (Azeri qiz ‘girl/daughter’, oğlan ‘boy/son’, Rahmati
1999: 444 and 501) and Mongol (oxin ‘girl/daughter’, Vietze 1981: 234 and 352). It
is noteworthy that such a linguistic situation is typologically similar to the one
in the Hittite kingdom.
For languages which have not undergone such extensive contact, a semantic
shift / meaning extension ‘kinship term improper > kinship term proper’ is
more common. The most well-known and almost universal example is the
shift ‘(adult) woman > wife’ (Zalizniak 2008: 228). The development ‘girl >
daughter’ seems less obvious from the viewpoint of most modern cultures.
However, in the context of a traditional (androcentric) society, in which a
woman was associated either with her husband or with her father, it is not
surprising that a woman’s age grade could also be used as a kinship term and a
designation of her marital status.15
Therefore, the third possible answer to the question formulated above could
be that the Anatolian continuant of *dhugh2ter- was primarily used as an age-
grade term (or had a hybrid meaning ‘girl/daughter’ just like NPers. doxtar).
HLuw. tuwatri- (TELL AHMAR §§24, 29) and Lyc. kbatra (Hawkins 1978) can-
not be viewed as counterexamples here. In the texts in which they occur they
without doubt mean ‘daughter’, but there are so few attestations that one can
only guess what meaning these words could have had in lost texts and in the
everyday speech of the Luwians and the Lycians. This third assumption, which
would imply that Anatolian inherited the form *dhugh2ter- in a slightly differ-
ent meaning from the other IE branches, would be especially fascinating for
quote here apart from Dahl & Koptjevskaja-Tamm (2001), Zalizniak (2008), Hentschel
(2012) and my own forthcoming article ‘Semantic change in terms of social relation’
(working title), in which I analyse this phenomenon from the point of view of both lin-
guistics and social anthropology, including empirical data. The assumptions about the
direction of semantic change (in the main body of the text above) reflect the preliminary
results of my research.
14 In Pahlavi we find kanīk/g ‘girl’ and rēdak ‘boy’ (Rastorguyeva 1966: 30, 46, 54, 69; MacKen-
zie 1986 [1971]: 71).
15 As was also correctly and eloquently expressed in B.J. Collins’ talk ‘Virginity in Hittite rit-
ual’, ‘She was someone’s daughter because she was not yet someone’s wife’.

MUNUS/f
those scholars who believe in the early split-off of Anatolian and instrumental
for determining the internal etymology of this PIE word.
6 PIE Kinship Terms in *-ter- (Morphology)
There are many and various hypotheses about the morphological structure of
the kinship terms in *-ter-. In my work, I follow the scenario originally sug-
gested by Lohmann (1965: 217) and Szemerényi (1977: 10) that has recently been
developed in detail by Pinault (2005, 2007, 2012).
Pinault views the suffix *-ter- as an instance of delocatival derivation (see
Nussbaum 1986: 235–247). Formally, this is the same derivational pattern as we
see in the agentive nouns (Tichy 1995: 61), but semantically it is closer to the
contrastive suffix, which is used to form the comparative grade of some adjec-
tives (Ved. tavástara- ‘stronger’, NPers. behtar ‘better’, Gr. παυρότερος ‘smaller’)
and adverbs from prepositions (*en → *en-ter → Lat. inter, OIr. eter, etc.). The
element *-(e)h2- reconstructed for all kinship terms in *-ter- is analysed by
Pinault as a collective or abstract suffix. The general meaning of the complex
reconstruction *-(e)h2- + *-ter- should be ‘belonging by contrast to the group
of…’ (Pinault 2007: 276–277; 2012: 2–3), or ‘someone within a group of similar
people’, or simply ‘one of…’.16
Pinault (ibid.) puts forth his own etymological suggestions for each of the
kinship terms involved. In this article I will only mention his etymologies for
female kinship terms in *-ter- because the male ones—*ph2tér- ‘father’17 and
*bhréh2ter- ‘brother’18—represent a separate and complex topic.
16 If Pinault’s analysis is correct, we could compare the semantics of ‘*(e)h2 + *ter’ with that
of the Slavic possessive suffix -ov-, which is still actively used in some West and South
Slavic languages. If, for example, we have to use Marina Zorman’s surname in an oblique
case, e.g. in the dative (‘to go to Zorman’), we cannot say iti k Zormanu (because the end-
ing -u is masculine, and it would mean that Zorman is a man), nor can we say *iti k Zor-
mani (because grammatically Zorman is a masculine noun and the usage of the feminine
ending would be incorrect). Slovenian has one way out of this dilemma by using the suffix
*-ov-: iti k Zorman-ov-i, lit. ‘to go to a woman who belongs to the family Zorman’. In this
case, Zorman plays the role of a collective noun, not grammatically but semantically,
because a surname refers to a group of people, and the suffix -ov- has a contrastive / dis-
tributive role: ‘one of the Zormans’.
17 E.g., Ved. pitár-, Av. pitar-, Arm. hayr, Gr. πατήρ, Lat. pater, OIr. athair, Goth. fadar, Toch. A
pācar, Toch. B pācer (cf. IEW 829; EIEC 194–195; NIL 554–562).
18 E.g., Ved. bhrā́tar-, Av., OPers. brātar-, Arm. ełbayr, Gr. φρᾱ́τηρ ‘member of a phratry’, Lat.
frāter, Goth. broþar, OIr. bráth(a)ir, OCS brat(r)ŭ, OPrus. brāti, Toch. A pracar, Toch. B
procer (cf. IEW 163–164; EIEC 84; NIL 38–41).

286 Milanova
For *méh2ter- ‘mother’,19 Pinault offers a simple and elegant solution. He de-
rives it from the nursery term *ma- (mama), and *ma-h2-ter is, according to
him, ‘one of the mothers’. *Hi̯énh2ter- ‘husband’s brother’s wife’20 (containing
**h1i̯-én ‘acquisition, gift’ from the root *h1ai̯- ‘give, take (exchange)’ per LIV 2:
229) is a person ‘within the group of acquired/given women’ (who takes part in
an alliance relationship between two families), hence ‘one of the brides’. Fi-
nally, *dhugh2tér- is ‘one of the (female) children’ (the core of the word **dhug-
‘(female) child’ will be touched upon in section 8 below).
The question that arises at this point is: what is the contrast between a fe-
male child, a bride and a mother? Pinault (2012: 2) suggests that we should
apply here a ‘privative opposition with marking of one term only by the con-
trastive suffix’, e.g. Greek δεξιóς vs. ἀριστερóς, σκαιóς vs. δεξιτερóς, ὑμóς vs.
ἡμέτερος. Accordingly:
*dhugh2tér- vs. *suH-nu-/*suH-i̯u-21/*putló-22

*Hi̯énh2ter- vs. *sṷésor-23 (a woman taken from another family vs. one’s own
woman)
*ph2tér- vs. *máh2ter- (exception: remade after *ph2tér-).
However, I believe that it would be more natural to assume that all terms in
*-ter- were built from a single system of their own like other words containing
this suffix: δεξιτερóς vs. ἀριστερóς (‘right’ vs. ‘left’), ἡμέτερος vs. ὑμέτερος (‘ours’
vs. ‘yours (pl.)’), Latin superus vs. inferus (‘upper’ vs. ‘lower’), etc. This would
mean that *dhugh2tér- is to be contrasted with *Hi̯énh2ter- and with *méh2ter-.
The most obvious criteria here would be, of course, age and/or marital status
(cf. also Kullanda 2001).
19 E.g., Ved. mātár-, Av. mātar-, Arm. mayr, Phrygian matar, Gr. (Attic) μήτηρ, Lat. māter, ON
móðer, OIr. máthair, OLith. mótė, (gen.sg.) móters, ORus. mati, (gen.sg.) matere, Toch. A
mācar, Toch. B mācer, Alb. motër ‘sister’ (!) (IEW 700–701; EIEC 385–386; NIL 457–461).
20 E.g., Ved. yā́tar-, Pashto yōr, NPers. (Isfahan) yād, Arm. nēr, (gen.sg.) niri, Gr. (Homeric, pl.)
εἰνάτερες, Lat. (pl.) ianitrīcēs, OLith. jéntė, (gen.sg.) jenter͂s, Latv. (Courlandish) jentere,
OCS jętry, (gen.sg.) jętrŭve (cf. IEW 505–506; EIEC 522; NIL 204–207).
21 With the suffix *-nu- (e.g., Ved. sūnús, Av. hunuš, Goth. sunus, OCS synŭ, OPrus. souns) or
the suffix *-i̯u- (e.g., Gr. υἱός, Toch. A se, gen.sg. seyo, Toch. B soy) (NIL 686–690).
22 E.g., Ved. putrá-, OPers. puça, Av. puθra-; Lat. (Plautus) putillus ‘young boy’; Osc. puklum
(EIEC 533; Szemerényi 1977:18).
23 E.g., Ved. svásar-, Av. xvaŋhar-, Arm. k‘oyr, Lat. soror, OIr. siur, Goth. swistar, OPrus. swestro,
Toch. A ṣar, Toch. B ṣer (< acc.sg. *su̯ ésrm̥ per EIEC 521) (IEW 1051; EIEC 521; NIL 680–
683), Gr. ἔορες ‘female relatives, daughters, nieces’, and probably also ὄαρ ‘wife’ (Janda
1999).

MUNUS/f
7 PIE Kinship Terms in *-ter- as Stages of Life
The assumption that the terms in *-ter might have been improper kinship
terms does not mean by itself that PIE lacked words for ‘father’, ‘mother’,
‘brother’, ‘daughter’, and ‘sister-in-law’ before the terms in *-ter- were reanal-
ysed as kinship terms proper. It would rather mean that other words had been
used instead: e.g., *atta- ‘father’ and *anna- ‘mother’, both preserved in Anato-
lian in exactly this meaning. *su̯ ésor- could originally have meant ‘(young) fe-
male relative’, i.e., it could also refer to daughters like the Greek ἔορ (Benveniste
1969: 214; Janda 1999: 320–324, esp. 322). Such words as *suH-nu-/suH-i̯u- and
*putló- (because their basic meaning is ‘a born one’24 and ‘a little one’25 respec-
tively) could originally have referred to both boys/sons and girls/daughters like
Gr. παῖς (see also n. 10 above concerning Hitt. pulla-). Finally, *snusó-26 could
have been applied as a generic term for all kinds of daughters- and sisters-
in-law, like Russian nevestka.27 This assumption thus does not contradict the
general hypothesis of IE linguistics about PIE as a language that was once ac-
tively spoken. Any living language is dynamic, and its vocabulary is constantly
undergoing semantic changes and innovations.
A vivid typological example of similar semantic change in terms of social
relations can be found in the Greek language. The Ancient Greeks viewed the
active period of a woman’s life as divided into three stages: adolescence, family
life (including motherhood), with a short transitional period between them
(cf. Versnel 1994: 276–283; Clark 1998: 13–22, esp. 14; Cole 1998: 32–35).28
Girls between the ages of 7 and 15 (i.e., between the sacred posts ἀρρηφόρος
and κανηφόρος) had the special designation παρθένος.29 A synonym of this
24 < *seu̯ H- ‘to give birth’ (LIV 2: 538).

25 < *pau̯ - ‘small’ with the addition of the diminutive suffix *-tlo- (cf. EIEC 533).
26 E.g., Ved. snuṣā́, Arm. now (gen.sg. nowoy), Lat. nurus, OHG snur, snora, ORus., Serbian CS
snŭxa, Alb. núse ‘bride, young woman, younger daughter-in-law’ (IEW 978–979; EIEC 148;
NIL 625–626)
27 1) ‘brother’s wife’; 2) ‘son’s wife in relation to the mother (more rarely: in respect to the
father)’; 3) ‘husband’s brother’s wife’ (= yatrov’ (obs.) < *Hi̯énh2ter-). This word is an inno-
vation (a derivative of nevesta ‘bride’) and is a rival of the inherited PIE word snoxa
(< *snusó-), which is now viewed as specifically ‘son’s wife in relation to the father’ (Fedo-
syuk 1998: 24). Modern speakers regularly confuse these two words or even replace them
with descriptive terms.
28 Of course, this set of life stages is not unique and is characteristic for most traditional
societies. I use the Greek material as an illustration because the long-term literary tradi-
tion of this culture permits one to trace how the meanings have evolved over the
millennia.
29 < *pr̥-steno- ‘having protruding breasts’, the meaning ‘virgin’ being attested only in the
youngest texts (Klingenschmitt 1974: 273–278); alternatively: *pr̥-dhh1-nó- ‘ausgesetzter

288 Milanova
word, which is more important for the present work, was κόρη.30 The primary
meaning of the latter in Ancient Greek was ‘young unmarried woman’. Second-
arily, this word could be used as a synonym of θυγάτηρ, but only in combina-
tion with the genitive or a possessive pronoun (‘my girl’ = ‘my daughter’).
Compare:
μὰ τὴν Καλυψὼ τὰς τε Νηρέως (gen.) κόρας
“by Calypso and Nereus’ daughters”

euripides, Cyclops 264;
ὁ δ᾿ οὐ θέλων τε καὶ θέλων οἴκτῳ κόρης τέμνει σιδήρῳ πνεύματος διαρροάς·
“And he, for pity of the girl both willing and reluctant, cut the breath’s
passageways with his sword”.
euripides, Hecuba 566–567
In Modern Greek this word still has both meanings, but it has almost replaced
θυγατέρα and has become the only stylistically unmarked term for ‘daughter’
(Gates 1971: 39).31
At the age of 15 or even earlier, a Greek girl became engaged and subse-
quently married. A new transitional phase in her life began, and she bacame a
νύμφη ‘young woman’, ‘bride/young wife’,32 ‘woman who is married but has not
yet had her first child’ (Clark 1998: 14). Later, in Hellenistic times, this word re-
placed νυός (< *snusó-) and attained a kinship meaning ‘daughter-in-law’
(Gates 1971: 39):
ἦλθον γὰρ διχάσαι ἄνθρωπον κατὰ τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ καὶ θυγατέρα κατὰ τῆς
μητρὸς αὐτῆς καὶ νύμφην κατὰ τῆς πενθερᾶς αὐτῆς “for I came to set a man
at variance against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law”.
matthew 10:35
Siegerpreis’ (Janda 2014: 545–554).

30 The etymology of this word is unfortunately rather vague. Beekes (2010: 752–753, 764) sug-
gests two variants: κόρη as a derivative of the root *k̑erh3- ‘grow’ or somehow associated
with κοῦρος ‘loppings, twigs lopped from a tree’.
31 Georgios Kostopulos, a doctoral candidate at the University of Vienna and native speaker
of Modern Greek, informs me that today only elderly people and nationalists use the
word θυγατέρα instead of κόρη in a stylistically unmarked context.
32 << *sneubh- ‘to marry’, cf. Lat. nūbere ‘to marry (a man)’, Russian CS snubiti ‘to join, connect’
(see IEW 977–978; LIV2: 574); Lat. nupta ‘bride’ (cf. Beekes 2010: 1026, de Vaan 2008: 417).

MUNUS/f
The semantic change / extension ‘bride > daughter/sister-in-law’ (parallel to

‘bridegroom > son/brother-in-law’) is not sporadic either, but reoccurs in other
languages, e.g. NPers. Ɂarus ‘bride, daughter-in-law’ and dāmād ‘bridegroom,
son-in-law’ (Tawakkulī 2003: 85, 425), Alb. núse ‘bride’, ‘daughter-in-law’, ‘young
woman’ and dhëndërr ‘bridegroom, son-in-law’ (Orel 1998:82, 302–303). The
same is true for Rus. nevesta ‘fiancée, bride’ > nevestka ‘daughter/sister-in-law’
(see above).
Finally, after the first child was born, a woman gained the status of γυνή and
μήτηρ. The word *gu̯ en(h2)- (> γυνή) was apparently used in both kinship and
non-kinship meanings already in PIE.
I suggest that a similar set of life stages might have existed in PIE and might
have undergone a similar semantic change.
PIE Ancient Greek
*mé/áh2ter- ~ γυνή / μήτηρ

*Hi̯énh2ter- ~ νύμφη
*dhugh2tér- ~ κόρη
8 *dhugh2ter-: Etymology
The internal etymology of *dhugh2ter- is still a major challenge and cannot be

determined with complete certainty. If my hypothesis about stages of life is
correct and the primary meaning of this word in PIE was ‘young unmarried
woman, girl’, the core semantics must imply either her young age (as
Gr. κανηφόρος is referred to παῖς καλὴ ‘beautiful child’) or her maturation
(etymology for παρθένος according to Klingenschmitt 1974: 273–278). The first
alternative would mean that the first stage of a PIE girl’s life began immediately
after her birth and lasted until her engagement (or wedding).33 The second al-
ternative would only include the period after the onset of puberty before her
transition into her husband’s family.34
A similar problem emerges when one tries to determine the etymology of
Proto-Slav. *děva (< *doi-wā < *dhoh1i-u- per Snoj 1997: 88). It has the same
33 In social anthropology this type of age stratification is referred to as the New Guinea type,
i.e. the first stage of life begins after the biological birth (Jeffreys 1950: 159).
34 This is the Hamitic type of age stratification, in which the first stage of life begins with the
onset of puberty/initiatory rite, etc. (social birth; Jeffreys 1950: 159).

290 Milanova
meaning as the meaning of *dhugh2ter- postulated above, ‘young unmarried

woman’, and is most probably derived from √*dheh1(i)- ‘suck, suckle’ (LIV 2:
138). However, *děva is usually viewed as an adolescent girl. Therefore, she is
neither the one who sucks nor the one who suckles. It is debated what kind of
shift took place here. Berneker (apud IEW 242) prefers the shift ‘breastfeeding
mother’ > ‘adolescent girl’ (‘potential breastfeeding mother’). Nevertheless, a
shift ‘suckling (little girl)’ > ‘adolescent girl’ is also quite plausible.
Pinault (2007: 276) derives **dhug-, the core of *dhugh2ter-, from the same
verbal root √*dheh1(i)- ‘suck, suckle’ and analyses it as *dhh1-u-g-, a u-stem with
a suffix/root extension *-g-.35 In spite of morphological difficulties, this sugges-
tion looks attractive because it would connect this protoform with Slavic *děva
and with the Latin terms fīlia ‘daughter’ and fēmina ‘woman’. However, the
question of the etymology and semantic shift of *děva would still remain open.
9 Conclusion
The word MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- attested in Hittite ritual texts is obviously a Luwi-

an borrowing. It is either a personal name or, more likely, a sacred title of well-
born (adolescent) girls who performed various ritual duties. Similar posts for
girls existed, e.g., in Ancient Greece and had an educational and socialising
function. DUMU.MUNUS (šuppeššara) might have been the corresponding
logogram for this word, although this cannot be proven until/unless a text is
discovered in which they both occur.
The reconstruction of the semantic development of MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- is
especially complex. In the given context, the word cannot be translated as spe-
cifically ‘daughter’, but should be interpreted more broadly as ‘girl/maiden’.
This latter meaning may simply be an occasional usage. However, it is also pos-
sible that in Anatolian this word could have a hybrid meaning ‘girl/daughter’,
which is a characteristic feature of many languages of the Near East. It might
show the semantic extension ‘daughter > girl’ as in NPers. doxtar. However, the
opposite shift, which is typologically more frequent and natural, would be
more fascinating because it could offer a hint as to the original meaning of
*dhugh2tér- in PIE.
35 In his formulation, *-g- is ‘an expressive suffix referring to females’ as in Hitt. ne-g-a-
‘sister’, Lith. mer-g-à ‘girl, maiden’ (Pinault 2007: 276 n. 17; 2012: 2). It may probably be
viewed as a sort of combinatory athematic variant of the individualising suffix *-(i)k- or
*-(a)k- (Lat. sene-k-s, cf. Oettinger 2004: 169–170, Jamison 2009: 312–329).

MUNUS/f
Acknowledgments
The work on this paper has been possible thanks to a DOC-Stipendium from
the Austrian Academy of Sciences. I would also like to express my special grati-
tude to Marinka Zorman and Heiner Eichner for sharing their knowledge of
Hittite, Ilya Yakubovich for valuable remarks about morphological structure
and possible semantics of the word MUNUS/fduttariia̯ ta/i-, Billie Jean Collins
for consultation about the character DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara-, Gernot
Windfuhr for his valuable advice about semantic change in New Persian and
my thesis supervisor Melanie Malzahn for supervising and directing me in the
right way. The usual disclaimers apply.
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Chapter 14
One Century of Heteroclitic Inflection

Georges-Jean Pinault
Abstract
The so-called heteroclitic Indo-European nouns, such as ‘water’, played a significant

role in the identification of Hittite as an Indo-European language, because this type of
inflection appeared to be characteristic of this language family. Nouns featuring het-
eroclitic inflection are known mostly as relics in other Indo-European languages, in-
cluding Tocharian. Several of them were recorded long before the discoveries of Hittite
and Tocharian, but the decipherment of Hittite in 1915 has inspired an enduring inter-
est in the origin of the heteroclitic stems, which would open windows into the remote
past of Proto-Indo-European. Hittite has well preserved the complete inflection of ‘wa-
ter’, in both singular and plural, and has moreover developed the heteroclitic inflec-
tional type extensively, especially in complex suffixes, so that it appears in a new light.
The best characterized type combines in its inflection an r-stem in the nominative-
accusative of the singular and of the collective with an n-stem in the weak stem allo-
morph of both the singular and the collective.
The paper reviews the most significant solutions that have been proposed for the
origin and the development of this association of two stems in a single paradigm: 1)
the phonological solution; 2) the scenario of mutual substitution of suffixes, by pro-
jecting the ‘heteroclitic’ system back to derivation, at a pre-inflectional stage; 3) the
scenario of hypostasis, which accounts for the alternating inflectional stems through
extensions from case forms marked by alternative endings. The preliminary question
of the formal extension of the heteroclitic inflection is also addressed. Are there other
such alternations of stems, for instance with i-stem or l-stem or even stem with zero
suffix instead of r-stem? Which subtypes of complex suffixes of the type *-Cer/n-,
which have become productive in Anatolian, can be safely attributed to Proto-Indo-
European? As for the origin of the heteroclitic inflection, the paper maps out a purely
morphological solution which would be connected with the process of internal deri-
vation, and especially with the formation of collectives. It is argued that the hetero-
clitic inflection began as the reshaping of a previous inflectional type of plain
r-stems.

296 Pinault
Keywords
Proto-Indo-European – nominal inflection – nominal derivation – heteroclitic stems –

allomorphy – collectives
The heteroclitic neuter stems were bound to the decipherment of Hittite by

Bedřich Hrozný, which succeeded in the summer of 1914, before his military
enrollment at the beginning of World War i. In the first account of his discov-
ery, he made the following point:
Sehr wichtig war die Feststellung einer Deklination, die gerade für die
indogermanischen Sprachen und nur für sie besonders charakteristisch
ist. Dem Verfasser / gelang es zunächst in dem Worte wa-a-tar mit ziemli-
cher Wahrscheinlichkeit das hethitische Wort für “Wasser” festzustellen,
das natürlich mit altsächs. watar, ahd. waʓʓar, gr. ὕδωρ usw. “Wasser”
identisch ist. Es gelang aber weiter festzustellen, daß von diesem Worte
der Gen. sg. nicht etwas *wa-a-tar-aš o. ä., sondern überraschenderweise
wohl ú-e-te-na-áš, der Abl./Instr. ú-e-te-ni-it/d usw. lautet; statt des -r des
Nom. und Akk. (vgl. die Identität des Nom. und Akk. bei dem indoger-
manischen Neutrum!) bieten die übrigen Kasus des Sg. ein -n-. Denselben
Wechsel zwischen -r und -n- weist aber das entsprechende indoger-
manische Wort auch z.B. im Griechischen auf, wo zu ὕδωρ der Gen. ὕδατ-
ος lautet, wobei das α dieser Form bekanntlich aus n̥ entstanden ist! Es ist
die bekannte höchst eigenartige Deklination, die auch z.B. im lat. femur,
Gen. feminis vorliegt. Einen stärkeren Beweis für den Indogermanismus
des Hethitischen kann man sich wohl kaum wünschen.1
Other shibboleths for the identification of Hittite as an Indo-European (hence-

forth IE) language were the evidence for participles in -ant-, the major nomi-
nal endings, the personal pronouns, the interrogative and relative pronoun,
the inflection of the present active, several adverbs, and some striking corre-
spondences in the lexicon.
1 Hrozný 1915: 24–25. Later on (1915: 33–35), the author gives the philological analysis of the
Hittite sentences which contain the words in question.
Additional abbreviations used in the text: Att. = Attic; AV = Atharva Veda; CToch. = Com-
mon Tocharian; Dor. = Doric; Hom. = Homeric; Ion. = Ionic; Lesb. = Lesbian; RV = Rigveda;
ŚB = Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa.

One Century of Heteroclitic Inflection 297
In his first description of the Hittite language, Hrozný devotes several pages
to the heteroclitic stems.2 He discusses the ablaut of the nom.-acc. forms of
‘water’ in -ar and -ār. He traces back the type of Hitt. u̯ idār, plural, to IE *-ōr, as
reflected also by Gr. ὕδωρ and Av. aiiārǝ ‘days’.3 He refers to the theory of
J. Schmidt (1889: 191–218), according to which the stem allomorphs with final
lengthened grade had collective meaning. In addition to ‘water’, Hrozný identi-
fies further stems of the same type: uttar ‘word, thing’, pl. uddār (ud-da-a-ar);
paḫḫur ‘fire’, dat. sg. paḫḫueni. For the latter, he gives4 the correct etymological
connection (with Gr. πῦρ, etc.), and proposes to recognize in the weak stem
allomorph a formant *-u̯ en-, *-un-, to be compared with that of Gr. πεῖραρ ‘lim-
it’ < *περϝαρ, gen. sg. πείρατος < *περϝατος < *peru̯ n̥tos. Other identifications are
meḫur ‘time’, which he connects to the root *mē- (= *meh1-) ‘to measure’; and
pettar ‘wing, feather’, which he connects to Skt. pátra-, Gr. πτερόν and OHG fe-
dara.5 The next sections cover the complex heteroclitic suffixes: -šar or -eššar,
-tar, -war.6 For the latter, Hrozný compares Gr. εἶδαρ ‘food’ < *ἔδϝαρ, gen. sg.
εἴδατος, and the formations of verbal abstracts reflected by infinitives, cf. Ved.
dāváne, Gr. Cypr. δόϝεναι, Att. δοῦναι. Within Hittite, he connects to the action
nouns in -war their frozen case forms seen in the abstracts in -wanzi (infinitive)
and -wan (supine), although he does not use these terms.7
It is obvious that Hrozný did not hesitate to go beyond mere internal de-
scription, and that he readily interpreted the Hittite data according to the
framework of IE scholarship of his time. In general, Hrozný proposes to see in
these complex suffixes enlargements of nominal stems in *-s-, *-t- (abstracts
and collectives) and *-u- by means of the heteroclitic suffix *-r/-n-. He failed,
however, to see in the weak form in -ann° (e.g. gen. sg. -annaš, dat.-loc.
sg. -anni) of abstract stems with nom.-acc. sg. -ātar the result of assimilation
of -tn- > -nn-.
Even though many points of data would be completed and corrected after-
wards, it is fair to say that Hrozný had seen nearly all the issues which would
dominate the complex of problems during the century to come.
2 Hrozný 1916–1917: v (foreword), 61–80 (chapters about the heteroclitic stems), especially 61–
70: ‘Nominalstämme auf -ar (und -n-)’.
3 Hrozný 1916–1917: 65.
4 Hrozný 1916–1917: 69.
5 Hrozný 1916–1917: 70.
6 Hrozný 1916–1917: 71–72, 772–77, and 77–80, respectively.
7 Hrozný 1916–1917: 80 n. 2, 92.

298 Pinault
A few years afterward, Marstrander added some further comparanda.8 He

notes the large spread of the ‘abnormal’ inflection in -r/-n-,9 and points to the
broad usage of the complex suffixes in Hittite texts. From the lexical point of
view, the ‘simple’ heteroclitic stems are less numerous, comparable to their
vestiges in other IE languages. Marstrander introduces a notion which will re-
main at the center of the discussion of the heteroclitic inflection, according to
which the stem allomorphs have been secondarily combined in a single para-
digm: ‘La séparation nette qui existait dès l’époque indo-européenne entre les
cas sujets et obliques dans les thèmes en r/n s’est accrue davantage en hittite
par l’inégalité des éléments formatifs auxquels se rattachent les déterminatifs
r/n. (…) Cet état de choses, qui est sans doute ancien, indique entre autres que
les / formes en r/n n’ont été que secondairement réunies en un paradigme’.10
Nonetheless, Hittite cannot be seen as an archaic IE language, more archaic
than Greek and Indo-Iranian. This language underwent a drastic evolution to-
wards simplification, due to historical factors and to contacts with non-IE lan-
guages.11 The latter idea was much in vogue at that epoch as a means to explain
the peculiarities of the Hittite language. In any case, the heteroclitic inflection
belongs to the genuine IE features of this language.
In his review of the first edition of the comparative grammar of the Hittite
language by Sturtevant (1933), Meillet gives a quite balanced pronouncement.
Although the importance of the stems in *-r/-n- is remarkable in Hittite, this
would not contribute to modifying our view of the protolanguage because this
feature could also be recognized through the comparison of the other IE lan-
guages. The heteroclitic inflection reflects the extension proper to a conserva-
tive IE dialect of an inflectional type that existed in other archaic IE languages.
It does not point to a stage anterior (to wit Indo-Hittite) to the differentiation
of Hittite from the other languages of the family, which are now often sub-
sumed under the term ‘Core Indo-European’.12
This is not the place to review the abundant literature on the historical in-
terpretation of the heteroclitic inflection.13 As for the data themselves and
8 Marstrander 1919: 57–60, 63–67.

9 Marstrander 1919: 169.
10 Marstrander 1919: 66–67.
11 Marstrander 1919: 168.
12 See Meillet (1934: 29): ‘La fréquence et l’importance des thèmes en r/n sont assurément
remarquables. Mais il suffirait de comparer les langues indo-européennes entre elles pour
les apercevoir. Les faits indo-européens communs en donnaient déjà une idée nette. Le
hittite conserve le type en r/n dans une large mesure, non parce qu’il représenterait un
stade antérieur de l’indo-européen, mais parce qu’il serait un dialecte indo-européen
maintenu sous une forme ancienne, connue par ailleurs’.
13 See Kammenhuber 1955 and Szemerényi 1996: 173–174, in addition to the works which will
be discussed below. Over the course of years I have had the privilege to discuss this topic

their analysis, I refer once and for all to the handbooks.14 As a matter of fact,
the Hittite evidence has enlarged the bulk of data about heteroclitic inflection,
while maintaining in force the basic problems: 1) The heteroclitic inflection is
characteristic of IE languages, and concerns some items of the basic vocabu-
lary. On the other hand, it looks abnormal from a more general point of view,
because PIE did not otherwise use stems with different suffixes in the same
declension. Therein lies some kind of paradox. 2) The weak stem allomorph
always ends in dental nasal. This restriction is striking, and contradicts the
hypothesis of generalized heteroclisis, i.e., the combination in nominal para-
digms of stems ending in any kind of suffix. Apart from a relatively circum-
scribed group of lexemes, which recur in several languages, most IE languages
have eliminated this type of inflection.
Because apparent synchronic abnormality often points to a previous and
more archaic stage of linguistic structures, one may search for the ‘origin’ of
the heteroclitic inflectional type. The theories which have been developed
around this intricate issue, most of them dating from long before the decipher-
ment of Hittite, are of four major types: a) phonological process, *-n̥ # > *-r̥ # ;
b) combination in paradigms of independent primary derivatives in *-(e)r-,
*-(e)n-, *-(e)l-, *-(e)i-, *-(e)u-, etc. at a preinflectional stage; c) tracing back the
morphemes combined in heteroclitic paradigms to ancient case endings, ad-
verbial endings or postpositions, see for instance the local adverbs in *-er, *-en,
etc. ; d) remodeling of a previous ‘normal’ inflection. Within the limits of the
present essay, I will not review all the pros and cons of the first three scenarios,
which also have some variants according to author.
The phonological solution (a) would seem to be the simplest idea, especially if
one considers the alternation *-r/-n- as the most prevalent one, in simple as in
complex suffixes of the type *-Cr̥ /-Cen-. It entails that PIE *-n̥ yielded *-r̥ in
absolute final position, except in instances where the word contained another
nasal. As a consequence, the heteroclitic stems with nom.-acc. sg. ending in *-r̥
had been originally plain *-n-stems.15
This remains quite speculative and ad hoc. First of all, why should this rule
concern only *-n̥ # and not *-en#, *-on#? Second, the chronology is arbitrary:
with H. Craig Melchert, Alan J. Nussbaum and Norbert Oettinger, for which I am most
grateful. I alone bear full responsibility for the views given in the present paper.
14 Kronasser 1966: 278–322, Rieken 1999: 273–417.
15 Tremblay 2010: 247–249, 251–252.

300 Pinault
this rule must have been in force before the formation of the collectives in *-ōr
and *-ḗr based on neuters ending in nom.-acc. sg. *-r̥ (e.g. *ṷód-r̥ singular vs.
collective *ṷéd-ōr ‘body of water’), but it did not prevent the formation, albeit
rare and secondary in most cases, of some nouns in *-r̥ after nasal, which were
also matched by a collective of sorts, cf. Gr. τέκμαρ ‘sign’ < *kṷék̂-mr̥ vs. τέκμωρ
‘sign’ < *kṷék̂-mōr, Gr. ἦμαρ ‘day’ (< *āmr̥ < *h2éh1-m-r̥ ), pl. ἤματα vs. Arm. awr
‘day’ < *āmōr, Gr. ὄναρ ‘dream’ (< *(h2)h3ón-r̥ ) vs. Arm. anowrǰ, based on *anōr.16
The rule is also blatantly contradicted by some isolated nouns which are cer-
tainly ancient and inherited: Ved. dhánur/dhánvan- (Av. θanuuarə, θanuuan-)
‘bow’ < Indo-Ir. *dhán-u̯ r̥/*dhán-u̯ an-; Av. snāuuarə ‘sinew’ (cf. Arm. neard,
Toch. B ṣñor, thematicized in Gr. νεῦρον) < *snéh1-u̯ r̥; Gr. θέναρ ‘palm of the
hand’ (thematicized in OHG tenar) < *dhén-r̥ . Furthermore, a number of neuter
stems in *-men- (nom.-acc. sg. *-mn̥ , gen. sg. *-mén-s) have been restructured
through nasal cluster (*-mn-) dissimilation as *-en-stems, with nom.-acc. sg. in
*-n̥ , yet this did not lead to the replacement of their direct case by *-r̥ ; cf. some
Hitt. neuters in -an- making deverbative action/result nouns, e.g. ḫenkan-
‘doom, death’, lagan- ‘inclination’, šaḫḫan- ‘service obligation’.17 The idea of
some parallel development in the verbal endings of the 3rd plural (*-r and vari-
ants in middle and perfect vs. *-nt in the active) is by no means new,18 and it
too is too speculative in itself to provide any support for the notion of an evolu-
tion of *-n̥ # in the neuter nouns. In addition, PIE had particles and adverbial
endings in *-r̥ , the distribution of which does not depend on any phonological
distribution, cf. *-bhr̥ (Gr. ὄφρα, τόφρα, further Toch. B kwri, A kupre), *-tr̥ (also
in *entér, *n̥ tér ‘between, amidst’), *-(e)r in *nér ‘below’ (Gr. νέρτερος, Osc. ner-
trak, Umbr. nertru, Ved. naráka-, ON norðr, etc.).
The second solution (b) has enjoyed much attraction, since it is based on the
observation, albeit superficial, of the variety in the nom.-acc. singular of het-
eroclitic neuters, and their association with suffixes known independently un-
der different guises, including their thematic counterparts: *-r-, *-i-, *-l-, *-u-,
*-h2-, *-s-, *-t-, etc. These elements, which are not truly morphemes since they
do not have any clear function, are also known under various combinations in
nominal derivation, such as *-u-n-, *-u-r-, *-u-l-, *-i-n-, *-u-s-, *-u-t-, *-i-s, etc.,
16 About the latter case, which will be not discussed further here, see Pinault 2014b.
17 See Melchert 2010.
18 Cf. Watkins 1969: 42–43, Cowgill 1979: 30–31. This has been refuted long ago by Bartholo-
mae (1889: 41) and Pedersen (1893: 262).

without any ascertainable limits. According to this view, the heteroclitic type
was grounded in patterns of nominal derivation which have left traces in all
types of suffixes. I would name this scenario one of all-pervasive heteroclisis,
which rather amounts to the suppletion at some point of prehistory of d ifferent
PIE nominal derivatives, entering into later contact as components of unified
paradigms.
The view of generalized heteroclisis has been entertained by several schol-
ars.19 The most prominent and systematic advocate of this view has certainly
been Benveniste, who took the problem of the heteroclitic inflection in *-r/-n-
as the point of departure of his investigation of the origins of the formation of
IE nouns (1935). Beside this well-identified type, he includes in the scope of
heteroclisis a very large number of stems, which are taken from secondary de-
rivatives, adverbs and compound members.20 This concept transcends the dis-
tinction between derivation and inflection. The heteroclitic inflections have
been made up from independent derived forms from the root which originally
had no fixed case value.21 According to Benveniste’s theory (1935: 178–187), the
morphemes used in the heteroclitic inflection and in its derivational
counterpart are ‘root suffixes’ (in French ‘suffixes radicaux’), which were the
first morphemes added directly to the minimal root (*CVC-) and which under-
went ablaut, linked with the ablaut of the root morpheme, while the further
elements, i.e., the enlargements (French ‘élargissements’), were not subject to
ablaut. In Benveniste’s system, the thematic derivatives of the root *deh3- ‘to
give’, as reflected by Gr. δῶρον, Arm. tur, OCS darŭ (< *dóh3-ro-) and Lat. dōnum,
Ved. dā́na- nt. (< *dóh3-no-), were not essentially different from the stems
in *-r- and *-n- which were associated in the most current type of hetero-
clitic inflection. The fact that there is no vestige of any paradigm of the type
*dóh3-r̥ /*déh3-n- or the like does not matter, because this pair of stems was not
structurally different, once the thematic vowel is subtracted, from the stems
*u̯ ód-r̥ and *u̯ éd-n- of the paradigm of the famous noun for ‘water’. The stem in
*-(e)n-, which makes up the weak stem allomorph of the neuter paradigms,
and the other stems that make up the various types of nom.-acc. sg. of neuters
were originally wholly independent.
This whole theory is not the topic of the present contribution, which con-
siders only its applicability to the solution of the genesis of the heteroclitic
inflection. One may note that the historical process itself, by which these suf-
fixal elements were selected so as to make up the heteroclitic inflection, is by
no means reconstructed. It remains totally unexplained how some of them
19 See for instance Petersson 1921.

20 Benveniste 1935: 3–39.
21 Benveniste 1935: 95–99.

302 Pinault
yielded strong stems, while others (actually the suffix *-(e)n- in most inflec-
tional types) usually yielded weak stems.
The morphemes which precede the endings in the heteroclitic inflection can
be followed by a zero ending, especially in the nominative-accusative (since
these nouns are of neuter gender) and in the locative. This fact has inspired the
third solution (c): it can be named the scenario of hypostasis, through which a
case form (marked by an ending or an adverbial suffix) served as basis of a new
stem, to which were added the regular inflectional endings. In this vein, Haudry
(1982) has seen the origin of heteroclitic inflection along the patterns of the
prehistory of nominal inflection in general. He takes for granted the identity of
all the morphemes of the heteroclitic stems with adverbial endings or postpo-
sitions, which can be traced in all sorts of morphemes, including secondary
suffixes.22 This theory includes many more heteroclitic types than the plain
*-r/-n- type, and it assigns to each formant an original adverbial meaning. One
cannot deny that this account has the merit of consistency, but it extends the
number of adverbial and case endings beyond any probability, and for most of
them the reconstructed meaning remains relatively vague, floating ad libitum
between locative, instrumental and genitive.
In this framework, the adverbial endings *-er and *-en have held much inter-
est, because they look to be related to the two suffixes of the main type of het-
eroclitic stems. The existence of these adverbial formants is justified,23 and
they coexist for some nouns which do not follow the heteroclitic type, e.g. Av.
zamarə/zəmarə (zəmar-) and Ved. jmán ‘on earth’ (< *dhĝhm-én). This path has
been followed in exemplary fashion by Bartholomae (1889: 39–43). He claimed
that the so-called heteroclitic inflection was rather based on contamination
between stems in *-(e)r- and *-(e)n-, themselves the products of hypostasis,
because the locatives in *-er and *-en, originally based on root nouns, were
nearly interchangeable. The case value of these formants in *-er and *-en was
dismissed by Pedersen (1893: 264–271), who preferred to take *-(e)r- and *-(e)
n- as true suffixes which could be added to the same root: these morphemes
help to build a primeval inflection which was originally made up of two cases,
the direct case (casus rectus), linked with the function of substantive, and the
22 Haudry 1982: 52–63.

23 Cf. Bartholomae 1889, Nussbaum 1986: 188–190, Dunkel 2014, i: 162–167 on the ending *-er
and the adverb *én used as endings after nominal stems (ii: 230–231).

oblique case (casus obliquus), linked with adverbial and adjectival function.
The heteroclitic type would reflect one stage in the constitution of the nominal
inflection, prior to the addition of further case endings to the oblique stem.
This reasoning has been advocated in various forms by several scholars.24 It
leaves nearly unexplained the selection of *-(e)n- as marking the weak stem
allomorph of the heteroclitic inflections, if one adds *-i/-n-, *-s/-n-, etc. to the
type *-r/-n-. It has been recently vindicated again by Oettinger (2016), in a way
representing simultaneously a reappraisal of Bartholomae’s view: the *-(e)n-
stem allomorph would result through hypostasis from the locative *-en, which
was later associated in one paradigm with *-r̥ , somehow related to the formant
*-er marking the directive/allative, hence the accusative (and nominative) of
neuter stems.25 This remains partly arbitrary, because the reverse would have
been equally possible, leading to *-n/-r-stems. Alternatively, *-r̥ (or any other
suffix, such as *-i which is homophonous with the locative sg. ending) could
have replaced zero as an additional marking of the nom.-acc. singular.
These two main scenarios, (b) and (c), can be considered on a pure theoreti-
cal basis, but their applicability depends crucially on the evaluation of the
data. The *-r/-n- alternation in the heteroclitic inflection is the only one known
in Hittite. The question of the existence of other types of variation ought to be
addressed in priority. On the basis on the evidence of all IE languages, did PIE
have other instances of heteroclisis, such as *-l/-n-, *-i/-n-, *-u/-n-, etc.?
By contrast with the mainstream of the scholarly tradition, Schindler (1975)

based his reconstruction of the inflectional patterns of heteroclitic stems on
*-r/-n- stems which were effectively attested, at least by some of their stem al-
lomorphs, excluding explicitly the secondary formations in *-r°, *-n°, *-l°, and
other derived forms occurring only in composition.26 He mentioned only in
passing the existence of heteroclitic stems which had *-(C)en- in the weak
stem allomorph, but whose strong stem had zero suffix or a suffix different
from *-(C)er-. Nonetheless, he took for granted an array of complex *-Cer/n-
stems: *-u̯ er/n-, *-mer/n-, *-ter/n-, *-ser/n-,27 following Benveniste for that
24 It has also been evoked by Benveniste (1935: 184–185), without referring to Pedersen.
25 Oettinger 2016: 271. I am much indebted to Norbert Oettinger for having kindly provided
me with the manuscript of his paper read at a conference held in 2012.
26 Schindler 1975: 2–3.
27 Schindler 1975: 2.

304 Pinault
matter. The ablaut patterns of the major types are more or less faithfully re-
flected in Hittite. The simple neuter *-r/n-stems followed in the singular the
acrostatic type: nom.-acc. *u̯ ód-r̥ , gen. *u̯ éd-n̥ -s, remade as *u̯ ed-én-s (among
other possible alternatives), loc. *ud-én, according to a revision which was add-
ed later.28 The collectives and neuter plurals followed the amphikinetic (alias
holokinetic) type, with the same ablaut as animate stems: nom.-acc. *u̯ éd-ōr,
gen. *ud-n- –́, loc. *ud-én.29 The complex neuter stems instead followed the
proterokinetic inflection: e.g. nom.-acc. *pér-u̯ r̥ /*pr̥-u̯ én-, leveled in Ved. párur,
párvan-, Gr. πεῖραρ, gen. sg. πείρατος. They had also a corresponding collective
with amphikinetic inflection, cf. ‘fire’: sg. nom.-acc. *péh2u̯ r̥, gen. *ph2(u)u̯ én-s,
coll. nom.-acc. *péh2u̯ ōr, gen. *ph2un-és (> *puh2n-és), common loc. *ph2(u)
u̯ én. The inflection of the (apparently) unique *-u̯ el/n- stem for ‘sun’ would
have been parallel: sg. nom.-acc. *séh2u̯ l ̥, gen. *sh2(u)u̯ én-s.30
To this account I would like to add some side remarks, which will not be devel-
oped immediately here: 1) Schindler assumes that both ‘fire’ and ‘sun’ had a
complex suffix *-u̯ eR-, which is likely on structural grounds, but these nouns
have lacked a root etymology until now. It is true that one can do a morphologi-
cal analysis of any noun without resorting to a precise etymology, but my con-
tention is that this would be preferable, especially if one wants to assess the
function of the nominal derivatives. 2) As for ‘sun’, the amphikinetic counter-
part is actually animate, cf. Lat. sōl, masc. < *sāu̯ ōl < *séh2u̯ ōl. The meaning of
the underlying neuter, reflected by the proterokinetic stem noted above, was
actually ‘light [of the sun]’, ‘full light’, as can be proved by the use of the neuter
Vedic svàr (/súvar/) in the hymns of the Rigveda, where it refers in a majority
of occurrences to ‘light, brightness’ of the day-lit sky and of the sun, while the
masculines sū́ra- and sū́r(i)ya- refer specifically to the ‘sun’ as the individual-
ized star of the day. Therefore, I would assume that *séh2u̯ ōl, as the animate
endocentric substantive contrasting with a neuter, referred to the individual-
ized ‘sunny light’, which may of course lead to personification. In its meaning
‘the bright, shining one’ (vs. ‘brightness’), it could also simultaneously have a
28 Schindler 1994: 397.

29 Schindler 1975: 3–9.
30 Schindler 1975: 9–10.

possessive reading: ‘the one provided with full light’ = ‘sun’.31 3) Leaving aside
the problem of the etymology of ‘sun’,32 I would assume that ‘fire’, *péh2-u̯ r̥/-
u̯ én- is indeed based on a root *peh2- meaning ‘to shine, be bright’. Outside of
this archaic noun, this root *peh2- evolved towards the meaning ‘to keep sight
on’, ‘to watch over’, hence ‘to control, protect’, etc. (LIV 2: 460). Compare the
relationship between Old Turkic köz ‘eye’, köz ‘burning embers’ (surviving in
Osmanlı Turkish, Turkmen, etc.) and the verb közäd- (transitive) ‘to guard, pre-
vent, watch’.33 4) One may surmise that ‘sun’ has been influenced at some stage
by ‘fire’, because the sun as well as the other stars were conceived as fires.
These examples serve to show that the reconstruction of paradigms should
be connected with their functions, which can be ascertained only through sce-
narios about the evolution of meaning. Some other points were left aside by
Schindler (1975) for future research: a) why did the complex *-Cer/n- have the
proterokinetic inflection, and not the acrostatic inflection? b) why does the in-
ternally derived collective also show heteroclitic inflection, parallel to the sin-
gular? c) what is the origin of the heteroclitic inflection itself?
In order to address these problems, it is commendable to circumscribe the do-

main of the suffixes which take part in the heteroclitic inflections. As we have
just seen, the *-l/-n- type is known only from the noun ‘sun’, moreover in a
complex suffix *-u̯ el/n- which is totally isolated, therefore most probably ana-
logical after the suffix *-u̯ er/n-, as represented e.g. by ‘fire’. In the following
paragraphs, we will consider the alleged instances of *-i/-n- stems, zero/-n-
stems, and complex suffixes *-ser/n- (§9) and *-mer/n- (§10).
Nussbaum (1986: 53–54, 161–162) has dismissed the notion of original PIE
heteroclitic *-i/-n- stems, cf. Ved. ákṣ-i ‘eye’, gen.-abl. sg. akṣ-ṇ-áḥ, nom.-acc. pl.
akṣā́ṇi; ásthi ‘bone’, gen.-abl. sg. asthnáḥ, instr.pl. asth-á-bhiḥ. Most examples
are confined to Old Indo-Aryan. They were independent creations, with sec-
ondary i-stem in the nom.-acc. sg., and were on the same line with nouns
which are apparently zero/-n-stems, most notoriously body parts, cf. Ved. ā́s-
(= Av. āh-) ‘mouth, face’, abl. sg. ās-áḥ, instr. sg. ās-ā́, beside instr. sg. ās-n-ā́, abl.
31 See the basic principle in Schindler 1976: 63–64, and further Pinault 2014a: 283–284 (spe-
cifically about ‘sun’), Nikolaev 2013: 198–202 and Höfler 2015: 153–154, 173, with some dif-
ferences of detail.
32 This issue will be tackled on a different occasion, because it has no direct bearing on the
present argument. See now Pinault 2017.
33 Cf. Clauson 1972: 756, 758 on kö:z and köze:d- respectively.

306 Pinault
sg. ās-n-áḥ, dat. sg. ās-n-é, loc. sg. ās-án and āsán-i; RV nom.-acc. sg. dóḥ (= Av.
daoš-) ‘forearm’, AV dual instr.-dat.-abl. dor-bhyā́m beside AV nom. du. doṣáṇ-ī,
ŚB gen. sg. doṣ-ṇ-áḥ, etc. The pivotal form for the creation of the *-n-stem
was certainly the locative sg. in *-en, which is plausible for body parts. These
zero/-n-stems were modelled after the heteroclitic stems, which had *-(e)n-
in the weak stem allomorph, so that *-n- was taken as prefixed to all oblique
case endings, regardless of the form of the nom.-acc. sg. (*-r̥ or something
else).34
Oettinger (2016) has recently given an alternative account of those nouns,
by tracing back the types zero/-n- and *-i/-n- to PIE. In my opinion, the latter
point is falsified by the fact that there are no instances of amphikinetic collec-
tives in *-ōi̯/-n- which would be parallel to *-ōr/-n. The *-i-stems for ‘eye’ (Ved.
ákṣi) and ‘bone’ (Ved. ásthi) are independent creations of Indo-Aryan, although
they may have supported each other, since they had in common the weak stem
allomorph with nasal suffix.
Building on Nussbaum’s premises, Melchert (1994: 150 and 2013) has explained
the Hitt. neuter s-stems with -n- in the weak cases, e.g. tunnakkiš, obl. stem
tunnakkišn- ‘inner chamber’, kuppiš, obl. stem kuppišn- ‘stool’, takšeš- ‘assem-
blage’, ateš- ‘axe, hatchet’, weak stem *attešn- presupposed by the nom. sg. ani-
mate attešanaš and the secondary stem atešša-.35 The points of departure were
original stems in *-is- or *-és-. The stems showing either -eš/-eššn- or -iš/-iššn-
result from competing levelings of the irregular paradigm produced by two
different anaptyxis rules, as in *h1élg-s > *alkiš ‘bush’ (basis of alkišta- ‘branch’),
weak stem *h1(e)lg-s-n- > *alkésn- with accent retraction after anaptyxis. The
-n-stem would have originated (in a way parallel to the Vedic examples above,
and especially to Ved. śīrṣáṇ- ‘head’ << *k̂r̥h2-s-én, cf. loc. sg. śīrṣáṇi, gen.-abl. sg.
śīrṣṇáḥ, etc.) in the locative sg., to wit *-s-en, and spread to *-s-n-.
A further development of the type *-és/*-és-n- would have been the suffix of
the Hitt. abstract/action nouns in -ēššar/-ēššn-, by addition of *-r̥ to the nom.-
acc. in pre-Hittite after the class of abstract/action nouns in -ātar, -ann-
(< *-atn-) per Rieken (1999: 385, followed by Melchert 2013: 182). Luwian does
not have a heteroclitic type in -Vššar, -Vššn-, although it has preserved the -r/n-
inflection well. As for Hitt., the productive type in -ēššar/-ēššn- with the
34 Cf. Nussbaum 1986: 201–204.

35 Further data in Rieken 1999: 386–404.

accented e-grade variant has been influenced by the fientive verbs in -ešš-
(< *-eh1-s-), which were originally denominative, and became deverbative, cf.
parkešš- ‘become high’, abstract pargeššar* (instr. sg. pargešnit) beside better
attested pargatar and pargašti- ‘height’; see further palḫeššar (instr. sg.
palḫešnit) ‘width’ beside the adjective palḫi- ‘wide, broad’, the verb palḫešš- ‘to
become wide or broad’, and abstracts palḫatar/palḫann-, palḫašti- ‘width’.36 As
a consequence, pace Benveniste (1935: 100–103) and others, Anatolian does not
support the notion of a unitary heteroclitic PIE suffix *-ser/n-. The action noun
formant *-sen- reflected by the Greek infinitive *-hen < *-sen (Ion.-Att. ἔχειν,
Dor. Lesb. ἔχην, Myc. e-ke-e < *ekhe-hen) and the Vedic infinitive in -sán-i (e.g.
ne-ṣáṇi ‘in leading’, tarīṣáṇi ‘in order to cross’, gr̥ ṇīṣáṇi ‘celebrating’) have an
independent explanation.37 This suffix may issue from the locative sg.
*-s-en(±-i) of the paradigm of secondary *-r/-n- stems based on roots enlarged
(or suffixed) by *-s-, probably also under the influence of the locative sg. *-men
of action nouns in *-m(e)n-, which made parallel infinitive formations, cf. Gr.
Hom. -μεν, etc.
10
A PIE *-mer/n- heteroclitic suffix has been assumed (for instance by Benveniste
1935: 116–117, 119–120 et passim) mostly on the basis of Hittite nouns in
-(m)mar, with the addition of some evidence in Tocharian. This was under-
stood as confirming rare instances of this suffix in other languages, cf. Gr. ἦμαρ
‘day’ < *āmr̥ vs. Arm. awr ‘id.’< *āmōr, and the pair Gr. τέκμαρ (Hes. +) vs. τέκμωρ
(Hom. +), which seems to reflect PIE *ku̯ék̂-mr̥ vs. *ku̯ ék̂-mōr. Accordingly, the
well-known neuter action noun suffix with proterokinetic inflection, *CéC-
mn̥ , gen. sg. *CC-mén-s (weak stem most often leveled as *CeC-mén-), would
be due to the leveling of an original heteroclitic stem *CéC-mr̥ , gen. sg. *-mén-s.
But the Hitt. evidence cannot be taken at face value. The neuters in -mar/-man-
are relatively infrequent in Anatolian, compared to the other heteroclitic
derivatives, e.g. Hitt. tii̯ammar ‘cord, string’ (from tii̯a- ‘to bind’), ḫilammar
‘gate building, portal’ (from ḫīla- c. ‘courtyard’), šarnumar, gen. sg. šarnumaš,
designating some body part. The nom.-acc. sg. -mar can be due to a remodeling
of -man-stems under the influence of other heteroclitic suffixes, especially
-ṷar, gen. sg. -ṷaš (< *-ṷan-s), which is quite productive. An additional factor
was the dissimilation -u̯ - > -m- after -u-, e.g. ašnumar < *ašnu-u̯ ar, verbal noun
36 Melchert 2013: 181.

37 García Ramón 1997: 64–67.

308 Pinault
of aš(ša)nu- ‘to take care of’, creating a secondary type that could spread ana-
logically, cf. šarrumar, verbal noun of šārr- ‘to divide up’.38 Tocharian data have
joined in this debate, because some nouns seem to reflect the stem allomorphs
*°mor and *°mōr: see especially Toch. B wamer vs. A wmār ‘jewel, gem’.39
I have shown that such examples can be explained within Common Toch. or in
the separate history of the two Toch. languages.40
The few other instances of *-mer-stems have basically two sources (Pinault
2016b): 1) the reinterpretation of delocatival derivatives in *-er from *-m-stems;
2) the very sporadic formation of abstracts in *-mr̥ based on adjectives in
*-mo- , after the model of *-tr̥ based on *-to- and *-u̯ r̥ based on *-u̯ o- adnomi-
nals. The first case is met with in Gr. ἦμαρ (Dor. ἆμαρ) < *āmr̥ < *h2éh1-mr̥ , which
I interpret as a delocatival derivative from *h2eh1-m-er ‘in the hot time [of the
day]’, locative sg. based on the *-m-stem from the root *h2eh1- ‘to be hot’, which
is warranted by independent evidence, cf. Hitt. ḫamešḫa- ‘spring’, Toch. B em-
alle, A omäl ‘hot’.41 As for the second case, the two nearly synonymous nouns
make a pair which has been thoroughly studied by Nussbaum (2014b). He re-
constructs the two PIE stems *ku̯ék̂-mr̥ and *ku̯ék̂-mōr, which would be parallel
to the well-known instances of proterokinetic neuter stems in *-mn̥ matched
by amphikinetic collective stems in *-mōn. Somewhat differently, I assume42
that only the stem *ku̯ék̂-mr̥ was inherited, although it was analogical. The neu-
ter *ku̯ék̂-mn̥ ‘sight’ was the basis of a) the possessive adjective *ku̯ek̂-mn-ó- >
*ku̯ek̂-mó- ‘visible’, and of b) the internal derivative *ku̯ék̂-mō(n), neuter. The
adjective *ku̯ek̂-mó- became the basis of an abstract *ku̯ék̂-mr̥ > τέκμαρ. This
derivation imitated the process: adjective in *-Co- → substantive abstract in
*-Cr̥ /*-Cén-, as described by Nussbaum (2014b: 234–237). On the other hand,
the neuter *ku̯ék̂-mō(n) was bound to yield *ku̯ék̂-mō by sound law.43 The ex-
pected Proto-Gr. reflex *τέκμω was remade as τέκμωρ (and not *τέκμων!) under
the influence of τέκμαρ, which was semantically close. This remodeling was
supported by the existence of several inherited neuters in -ωρ.
11
The distribution of the instances of heteroclitic stems shows that they are
linked to internal derivation, since many of them make two parallel stems
38 Melchert 1983: 19–21, Rieken 1999: 361–374.

39 Van Windekens 1979: 67, 71–72.
40 Pinault 2011: 164–173.
41 Pinault 2016a.
42 Pinault 2016b: 66–74.
43 Jasanoff 2002: 32–35.

which are both heteroclitic, one being the singular (*-r̥ /-n-) and the other be-
ing the collective in a broad sense (*-ōr/-n-, *-u̯ ōr/-un-, etc.). It is not necessary
to recall many examples, beside ‘water’ and ‘fire’, cf. Hitt. ēšhar, išhan- nt.
‘blood’ < *h1ḗsh2-r̥ /*h1ésh2-n-, after leveling Ved. ásr̥k, gen. sg. asnáḥ, vs. Toch. B
yasar, A ysār < CToch. *yäsār < *h1ésh2-ōr; Hitt. šakkar (zakkar), gen. sg. šaknaš,
nt. ‘dung’ (with leveling of the root vocalism) < *sók̂-r̥ /*sék̂-n- vs. Gr. σκῶρ,
gen. sg. σκατός < *sék̂-ōr/*sk̂-n̥ - (with leveling of the zero grade of the root);
Lat. iter, gen. sg. itineris (← *itinis) nt. ‘path, way’ < *h1éi̯-tr̥ /*h1i-tén- vs. Toch. B
ytārye, A ytār fem. < CToch. *yätār < *h1itōr, through leveling of *h1éi̯-tōr/*h1i-
tn-és, loc. *h1i-tén. Nussbaum (1986: 125–130) has revised the theory of J. Schmidt
(1889): the nom.-acc. neuter plural forms in *°ēC, *°ōC originally belonged to a
singular collective of neuter, and not feminine, gender. These forms were par-
allel to the original singular collectives in *-e-h2, *-i-h2, *-u-h2, which have be-
come nom.-acc. plurals. Consequently, the neuter plurals in *-ōr (Hitt. u̯ idār),
*-ōn (Av. nāmąm) go back to earlier **-or-h2, **-on-h2 through the so-called
Szemerényi’s Law. The collective in the paradigm reconstructed by Schindler
(1975) thus ought to be rewritten as *u̯ éd-or-h2/*ud-n- –́. Nussbaum raises the
question why the suffix *-h2 is found only in the nom.-acc. case, but does not
give an answer as to the analogical process which would explain this fact (1986:
130 n. 54). As an aside, these finals merged with the finals of the animate am-
phikinetic stems in *-ōr, *-ōn, etc. < *-or-s, *-on-s by the same compensatory
lengthening, but this fact was not further elaborated by Nussbaum.
It should be observed that the reconstruction *u̯ edōr of the internal deriva-
tive of *u̯ ód-r̥ , which is taught in all handbooks, in fact covers two quite differ-
ent things: 1) the real collective singular *u̯ éd-ōr (< *u̯ éd-or-h2) ‘body, stretch of
water’, which as expected yielded a singular, as reflected by Gr. ὕδωρ, gen. sg.
ὕδατος, Umbr. utur ‘water’ after leveling of the root vocalism; 2) the neuter plu-
ral u̯ idār < *u̯ edṓr, reflected by Hittite, where this form is effectively the count
plural of u̯ ādar, and means ‘instances of water’.44 This distinction between the
two functions of the amphikinetic derivatives is by no means isolated, as can
be seen by some further examples: *h2éh1-mōr ‘day’ (Arm. awr) and *h2éh1-mōr
‘days’ (reflected by Gr. *āmōr > Ion. *ἤμωρ, replaced by the singular in the
Hom. formula νύκτας τε καὶ ἧμαρ #, and parallel to νύκτωρ ‘by night’, adverb
based on a distributive plural);45 *h1néh3-mō(n) ‘full name’ (naming formula) >
‘name’ (Goth. namo nt., transferred analogically to the masculine in OHG
namo, etc.) and *h1néh3-mō(n) ‘names’ (Ved. pl. nā́mā, remade as nā́māni, Av.
nāmąm), vs. singular *h1néh3-mn̥ .46 The common basis of *u̯ édōr and *u̯ edṓr is
44 Melchert 2011: 396, 398.

45 Pinault 2016a: 470–474.
46 Cf. Nussbaum 2014a: 300–303.

310 Pinault
a neuter *u̯ éd-or, which could mean ‘mass of water’ as well as ‘water’ (or an
‘instance of water’, ‘a stretch of water’).47 In the second case, the *-h2 is the
ending of the neuter plural, which is taken from other neuter stems, cf. Hitt.
āššū (plural of āššu) ‘goods, possessions’ < *°u-h2, PIE *i̯ugé-h2 ’yokes’ (Ved.
yugā́, Gr. ζυγά, Lat. iuga). Hitt. ṷidār < *ṷedṓr shows a shift of accent to the fi-
nal syllable, which probably had a contrastive function, even though it may
have been analogical to thematic neuter plurals and collectives ending in
*°éh2.48 In the first case it is a further mark of substantivization, which was
added only to the direct case. The optional character of this addition of *-h2 to
a collective neuter noun is proved by the existence in a few languages of ab-
stract suffixes which lack it. Besides the familiar fossilized neuters (‘path’,
‘blood’, ‘fire’, etc.), Tocharian kept as productive the suffixes *-wær < *-u̯ or (e.g.
B malkwer ‘milk’) beside *-wänyæ < *-u̯ n̥-(i)i̯o-, which are two avatars of the
type *-u̯ er/n-, as well as *-æl < *-ol and *-æi̯ (B -i, A -e) < *-oi̯. In addition, Toch-
arian has some instances of a complex suffix *-eh2-u̯ or- (cf. B karyor, A kuryar
‘business’); cf. Hitt. ḫaršāu̯ ar, Lat. cadāuer, etc., which served to make deverba-
tive abstracts.49
12
The original function of the amphikinetic type was to make animate endocen-
tric substantives (Pinault 2012: 404–409). The amphikinetic derivatives then
assumed various semantic values, depending on the relationship to their re-
spective basis: possession, personification, animate adjective, agent noun, etc.
For instance, *méĝ-oh2-, the internal derivative of *méĝ-h2 nt. ‘great thing,
greatness’ (later transposed as adjective, nt. Ved. máhi, Gr. μέγα), meant ‘the
great one’, individualized ‘greatness’, and later itself became an adjective,
which could be glossed as ‘provided with greatness’. The animate substantive
could freely become an adjective, e.g. *píH-ṷōn (Gr. πῑ́ων, Ved. pī́van-), fem.
*piH-ṷér-ih2 (Gr. πῑ́ειρα, Ved. pī́varī-) ‘fat’ (adj.) is based on the heteroclitic neu-
ter *píH-ṷr̥ /-ṷén- ‘fat’ (noun), cf. Gr. πῖαρ, replaced in Ved. by pī́vas-. It originally
meant ‘the fat one’, individualizing and virtually possessive ‘provided with fat’.
The same possessive value potentially holds for *séh2-ṷōl ‘sun’ (mentioned
above, §7).
47 Nussbaum 2014a: 284–287, 294.

48 Oettinger 1992: 210–213.
49 Data and further discussion by Malzahn (2014: 196–200) and Pinault (2011: 161–166 and
2014a: 284–285).

Now this possessive value is also found at the source of the externally de-
rived collectives: they are substantivized possessive (or appurtenance) adjec-
tives, e.g. arbustum ‘wood, plantation’ (< *-to-m) ← arbōs ‘tree’, Ved. áśvāvat
‘wealth consisting of horses’, gómat ‘wealth consisting of cows’, substantivized
nt. ← adj. áśvāvant- ‘provided with horses’, gó-mant- ‘provided with cows’.50 The
possessive semantics is common to internally derived collectives and to ani-
mate derivatives of the same inflectional type, that is amphikinetic. The main
difference lies in the gender of the collective, which is secondary. To take a
further example, *-mō(n) < *-mon-h2, neuter collective, was based on the neu-
ter *-mon of the animate *-mō(n) < *-mon-s internally derived from the neuter
in *-mn̥ /-mén-. Accordingly, the basis of the collective *ṷéd-ōr < *ṷéd-or-h2 is a
possessive *ṷédor, which meant ‘watery, consisting of waters’, neuter adjective
(Nussbaum 2014a: 298). Now, judging from the case of *píH-ṷōn derived from
the heteroclitic neuter *píH-ṷr̥ /-ṷén-, one would expect *ṷéd-ōn, weak stem
*ud-n- –́, as the derived possessive of *ṷód-r̥ , because the internal derivative
normally takes as its basis the weak stem allomorph, that is *ṷed-én-, loc. *ud-
én. This discrepancy is easy to settle, because the phonological outcome of this
form was *ṷédō, according to the already mentioned rule of nasal loss in PIE
*-ō(n)# (§10). This was remade as *ṷédōr, as a match of the singular *ṷód-r̥ and
as fitting the derivatives based on the stem *ud-r-. An animate substantive
*ṷédōr ‘the watery one’ could shift to adjectival status, on a stem *ṷédor-, neu-
ter *ṷédor. Therefore, this stem, qua possessive, had in itself collective value,
and the suffix *-h2 of abstract/individualization was added only – and
optionally – to the direct case, since it did not express by itself the notion of
collective.51
13
The fates of the singular and its collective counterpart were intertwined, as
expected for designations of substances, body parts, etc. There is independent
evidence for the singular of ‘water’ being originally a plain *-r-stem: see the adj.
*ud-r-ó- ‘being in water’ (subst. ‘aquatic animal’, cf. Ved. udrá-, Gr. ὕδρος, OHG
ottar, OE otr, Lith. ū́dras), derived from the locative *ud-ér ‘in water’, and other
forms, cf. Ved. an-udrá-, Gr. ἄνυδρος ‘deprived of water’, Ved. samudrá- ‘broad
50 Nussbaum 2014a: 289–298 and 2014b: 239–245.

51 There is no place for the argument of Steer (2012: 89–101), who sets up a stem with the
collective suffix throughout the paradigm, which forces him to eliminate it in the weak
stem.

312 Pinault
flow, ocean’. Accordingly, the original paradigm was sg. nom.-acc. *u̯ ód-r̥ , gen.
*u̯ éd-r̥-s, instr. *u̯ éd-r̥-h1, etc., loc. *ud-ér. The forms of the weak cases caused
various difficulties, which were repaired. The locative sg. *ud-ér had a doublet
*ud-én, which was itself based on the root noun *ṷéd-. The prehistoric exis-
tence of this item is proved, beside Ved. udán, by its vr̥ddhi derivative *ṷéden-o-
‘being at/near water’, reflected by Arm. getin ‘ground, land’ and by CLuw.
ṷaddanii̯a- ‘land’, Hitt. udnē ‘id.’ (< *udnḗi̯).52 Because *ud-ér and *ud-én were
perceived as interchangeable, the *-n-stem forms could be introduced into the
rest of the paradigm where they were needed. Starting from the latter locative,
the remodeling of the genitive sg. as *u̯ ed-én-s was preferred to *u̯ ed-ér-s >
**u̯ edḗr, as the expected outcome of Szemerényi’s Law, because a gen. sg. *°én-
s (replacing *°ḗn) beside a loc. sg. *°en(±-i) was already known from the neuter
*-men-stems, cf. Av. -mə̄ṇg, OIr. -me. The stem *ṷed-én- (cf. Hitt. gen. sg.
ṷidenaš) could then spread to the rest of the paradigm. Once the collective had
been remade as *ṷédōr, the singular and the collective interacted mutually, so
as to install firmly the pattern of heteroclisis between *°r in strong cases vs.
*°n- in weak cases.
Concerning the derivatives with complex suffixes, *-u̯ er/n- and *-ter/n-,
their emergence is due to the association of the *-r/n- abstracts with thematic
stems: *-Co- → nt. *-Cr̥ /-n-.53 The proterokinetic inflection of the latter would
then be explainable by the fact that the basis, a stem in *-to- or *-u̯ o-, originally
had full grade of the root. Therefore, the first element of these complex suffixes
does not reflect a root enlargement or previous athematic suffix (*-u-, *-t-) to
which the heteroclitic suffix *-r/n- was added, pace Benveniste (1935: 119). The
model of this pattern ought to be sought in the simple *-r/n-stems themselves.
See for instance Hitt. lammar, gen. sg. lamnaš ‘moment, instant’ << nt. AS
*nóm-r̥ /*ném-n̥ -s (leveled as *nom-n-os), loc. sg. *nm-én, nearly synonymous
with the action noun from the root *nem- ‘to allot’, masc. *nóm-o- ‘distribution’
(Gr. νόμος), which was itself cognate with an agent noun *nem-ó- or *nom-ó-.
Another point of departure is provided again by ‘water’. Beside Hitt. u̯ ādar, pl.
u̯ idār, there is a noun Hitt. u̯ ida- ‘water’ (vel sim.), which is considered to be a
borrowing from the CLuw. adjective u̯ ida- ‘wet’ < *u̯ ed-ó- ‘provided with
water’.54 Therefore, at a previous stage, the pair *u̯ ed-ó- vs. *u̯ éd-or nt. ‘watery’
52 Cf. Oettinger 2004: 133–135 and Yakubovich 2010: 236–238, despite differences of detail;
alternative etymology by Kloekhorst (2008: 934).
53 Cf. Nussbaum 1986: 203 and 2014b: 234–237.
54 Cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 1016, Rieken 1999: 76. The accentuation and vocalism would comply
with the development assumed by Melchert (1994: 262). However, this word has been
traced back by Watkins (1975: 373) to *ṷēd-o-, a vr̥ddhi formation meaning ‘pertaining to
water’, cognate with OE wǣt, wēt.

(basis of the collective *u̯ éd-or-h2 > *u̯ édōr) was the model for *h2erh3-u̯ o- ‘ara-
ble’ (Lat. aruos, subst. aruom, pl. arua ‘fields’) vs. *h2érh3-u̯ or ‘arable land’. The
latter was then remodeled according to the proterokinetic inflection as *h2érh3-
u̯ r̥, linked to an internally derived amphikinetic collective *h2érh3-u̯ ōr or
*h2érh3-u̯ ō(n), cf. OIr. arbor, gen. sg. arbe ‘grain’, Arm. harawownkc ‘planting,
field’, Gr. ἄρουρα.
14
To sum up, the heteroclitic stems were originally *-r-stems that became in PIE
*-r/n-stems because many of them referred to places, body parts, and related
notions, etc. that had a locative in *-en in current use, competing with the loca-
tive in *-er. This inflection was entirely analogical, and it was definitely
furthered by the process of internal derivation which produced a copy of the
singular in the collective *-ōr/-n-. It enjoyed some success already in PIE, lead-
ing even to the formation of complex suffixes, which made abstracts. This rela-
tive productivity may be due to the ability of these paradigms to contrast the
two allomorphs of neuter stems more effectively than by mere ablaut of the
root, and to mark the direct case of athematic neuters by a morpheme which
was functionally identical to the ending *-m of the neuter thematic stems.
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ton: Brill.

Chapter 15
From Experiential Contact to Abstract Thought:

Reflections on Some Hittite Outcomes of PIE
*steh2- ‘to stand’ and *men- ‘to think’
Marianna Pozza
Abstract
This study further examines some issues outlined in Pozza (2014). In particular, the
analysis of the PIE root *steh2- ‘to stand’ and its possible Hittite outcomes will be
developed, with an attempt to connect verbs such as tiya- ‘to place oneself, step, set
in’, tit(ta)nu- ‘to install, place, put, erect’, ištantai- ‘to stay put, linger, be late’ with
išta(n)ḫ- ‘to taste, try (food or drinks)’, following the path already traced by Eichner
(1988). This interpretation, contextualized within the theoretical framework of cog�-
nitive linguistics, allows us to reinterpret our documentary sources from a fresh per-
spective and more general point of view. The connection found in other IE
languages between the concrete and local value of reflexes of PIE *steh2- and their
abstract and metaphorical meaning (cf. Gr. ἐπιστήμη ‘knowledge, expertise’, Lat. su-
perstitiosus ‘who knows the truth’ < *‘which stands above’) acquires more value
through the analysis proposed here, in particular the etymological interpretation of
išta(n)ḫ-.
Along similar lines, Francia (2010) has proposed that, in certain contexts, the Hit�-
tite verb mema/i- ‘to speak, to tell’ could convey the meaning of ‘to speak from the
bottom of one’s heart’, hence ‘to reflect’. This comparison offers new evidence for
the etymological derivation of mema/i- from the PIE root *men- ‘to think’ (Carruba
1986) and confirms the importance of the relationship between setting oneself in a
spatial relation with the object of knowledge, and the process of knowledge
itself.
Keywords
Hittite – etymology – semantics – conceptual metaphor

318 Pozza
1 The Expression of Knowledge as a Spatial Relationship in

Indo-European Languages
In a book of 1976, W. Belardi observed that some terms combine an absolutely

transparent formal structure with a meaning for which it is difficult to assign
a motivation from the literal value of the component parts. In the Latin term
superstitio ‘superstition’, for example, he recognized the possibility of identify-
ing the concrete semantics of ‘to stand upon’ as much as the abstract seman-
tics of ‘to know’; thus, in his view, the term ended up denoting the relationship
between a subject and, in this case, an aspect of the divine, within a spatial
relationship between the elements in play. The same applies to superstes ‘wit-
ness’ and superstitiosus ‘superstitious’, ‘prophetic’, ‘he who knows the truth, he
who intends truthfully’, which comes from an original, literal meaning of
‘what stands above’. In the same way, superstitio, as well as the semantically
different religio, denotes the relationship between a subject and any aspect of
the divine, an expressive transposition of relations between things within a
space.
The focal point, Belardi observed, is the metaphorical expression of setting
oneself in relation to the object according to a spatial dimension and a local-
izing specification, documented in Latin as well as other ancient IE languag-
es. Some examples are: Gr. ἐπιστήμη ‘knowledge, expertise’ (< *epi-steh2- ‘to
stand upon’), OE understandan ‘to understand’ (< *n̥ dher-steh2- ‘to stand
under’), OSax. farstandan ‘to defend’ but also ‘to understand, interpret,
recognize’ (< *pr̥-steh2- ‘to stand in front of’), OIr. (h)ires(s) ‘faith, creed’
(< *iriss < *eriss < *peri-steh2- ‘to stand around’),1 am(a)ires, amaras ‘unbelief’
(prefixed with the privative *n̥ -), Pahlavi apastāk ‘knowledge, religious lore’, to
be interpreted as *upa-stā-ka- ‘what is established’,2 and so on. In all of these
cases, the base verb, continuing PIE *steh2-/*st(h)ā- ‘to stand’ (IEW: 1004, LIV 2:
590), is combined with preverbs (indicating notions like ‘upon’, ‘around’, ‘un-
der’, ‘in front of’ etc.) which, in specifying the ‘concrete localization’, allows a
figurative abstract interpretation, which finds its raison d’être precisely in the
original concrete local value. Only in the Indian sphere does the base *steh2-
never occur in these metaphorical terms. Nevertheless, as demonstrated by
Maggi (1978), the representation of knowledge could be expressed through
the semantically cognate root sad- (< *sed- ‘to sit’, IEW: 884, LIV 2: 513), indicat-
ing the act of ‘being (seated) near a concept’: cf. upaniṣad, meaning ‘veneration
1 See also NIL: 645 n. 16. For details on the Irish terms, see Poli 1997.
2 See Belardi 1979.

From Experiential Contact to Abstract Thought 319
of a concept’, ‘mindful meditation’, ‘sitting beside the concept in a devout

attitude’.3
The relationship established between the subject of knowledge and the ob-
ject grasped, then, is that between two physical entities which, as such, are
inserted in a spatial dimension: it is the perspective within which the two enti-
ties are related that gives life to the linguistic metaphor which, through local-
izing concreteness, leads to a more abstract level.4 From a more general point
of view, the structuring of space and its successive categorization at a linguistic
level (according to the model of the first Space Grammar)5 has been widely
studied in cognitive linguistics, as evinced by the strong interest in a holistic
approach to meaning, which sees a direct correspondence between physical
experiences and their mental and linguistic representation, between knowl-
edge processing and the faculty of language, and between concrete meaning,
linked to the physical dimension of the human being, and the abstract dimen-
sion codified by grammar. Moreover, the fact that in all syntagmatic expres-
sions the perceiving/conceptualizing subject proves to be in the vicinity
(‘upon’, ‘under’, ‘in front of’, ‘around’ etc.) of the perceived object means that
the latter is in a condition of ‘high perceptual acuity’ and consequently pro-
vides the situation with an ‘optimal viewing arrangement’ (Langacker 2002:
316). Since it is easier to grasp something when it is in our vicinity, as well as
when it is in a fixed position rather than being mobile, one can more clearly
understand an important conceptual metaphor like to understand is to grasp
(Lakoff and Johnson 1999: 125).
2 PIE *steh2- ‘to stand’ in Hittite
As is well known, there is no unanimous agreement on which Hittite forms are

ascribable with certainty to PIE *steh2- (IEW: 1004, LIV 2: 590) ‘to stand’. In fact,
3 For traces of the same representation, but signified by verbs of movement in passages in
which a ‘dynamic aspect of knowledge’ dominates, see Lazzeroni 2000.
4 Semantic shifts from an original concrete (physical) meaning to an abstract (mental) one can
also be observed in cases such as Lat. comprehendō ‘I take, seize, grasp’ → ‘I understand, com-
prehend’, Lat. capere ‘to take’ > It. capire ‘to understand’ (cf. also It. afferrare ‘to grasp, seize’ >
‘to understand’).
5 The bibliography of references is immense and therefore impossible to fully list here. It may
suffice to mention, beside the works cited from time to time in the text and notes, Geeraerts
and Cuyckens 2007; Lakoff 1987; Langacker 1982, 1987–1991, 2002; Talmy 1983, 2000; Taylor
2002.

320 Pozza
the etymological interpretations of some terms associable with this root often
disagree.
The only verb that the major etymological dictionaries6 unanimously con-
sider as a direct descendent of PIE *steh2- in Hittite (the equivalent of Gr.
ἵστημι, Skt. tíṣṭhati) is tiya- ‘to position or place oneself; to set foot, tread, walk’;
(impersonal) ‘to happen, take place, come to pass’.7 In the case of the verb
tit(ta)nu- ‘to set up, place, erect’, there are two prevalent etymological
hypotheses:8 one that sees it as a reduplicated form of dai-/ti- ‘put, place’, hence
from *dhi-dhh1-new-, derivative of *dheh1-/*dhē- ‘to put, position’ (IEW: 235,
LIV2: 136, cf. Gr. τίθημι, Skt. dádhāti);9 and one that interprets it as a reduplicated
form from *steh2- ‘to stand’, hence *(s)ti-(s)th2-new-.10
In the case of the root *dheh1-, it will be seen that the gemination which ap-
pears in the Hittite word is not what one would expect according to Sturte-
vant’s law.11 Melchert (1994: 19), rather than relating it back to a ‘fortition’ after
an accented reduplicated syllable as does Oettinger (1979: 347), is instead in-
spired by Hart’s hypothesis (1983: 122–123). He thinks that the reduplicated
forms which present unexpected geminated consonants could have devel-
oped in a prehistoric phase of Hittite, and in any case after devoicing of the
initial voiced stops. On this question, and on the (problematic) connection of
the Lycian verb stta- to the same root, see the convincing interpretation by
Melchert (2018), which rightly highlights that the attestations of the verb
tit(ta)nu- betray two distinct synchronic stems: one with the basic meaning of
‘to place’ (used for objects with horizontal orientation), and the other with
the meaning of ‘to cause to stand, erect’. The first is synchronically associable
with dai- ‘to place, put’, thus from *dheh1-; and the second may be associated
6 See HEG, IEW, Kloekhorst 2008, LIV2 (albeit with some doubts) s.vv. See also Watkins
1969: 57 and Oettinger 1979: 350, as well as the ample bibliography cited by HEG T/D s.v.
This is the most commonly accepted etymology. Other hypotheses (refer to the bibliogra-
phy cited by HED, HEG and Kloekhorst 2008, s.vv.) attribute it instead to *dheh1-
‘to put’.
7 For the s-mobile of the PIE base, hence *(s)teh2-, cf. Toch. A/B tāk- ‘I was, I became’ (see
Pedersen 1941: 194, Kloekhorst 2008: 880), OIr. °tá (Cf. Vendryes 1959-, s.v. tá-, Watkins
1969: 57), ad-táu, -tó ‘I am located, I am, I exist’ < *steh2-yō.
8 See Pozza 2011: 498–500 for a summary of the main etymological hypotheses, and HEG
T/D: 388 for an in-depth review of the opinions in this regard.
9 See Gusmani 1968: 21, Eichner 1973: 99, Oettinger 1979: 350, Melchert 1994: 19, Kloekhorst
2008: 883.
10 Cf. Sturtevant 1930: 152, Pedersen 1938: 183, Crossland 1951: 115, Kimball 1999: 409, García
Ramón 2010a: 48–49, Jasanoff 2010: 148, Melchert 2018.
11 See Pozza 2012 for an overview of some problematic cases concerning Sturtevant’s Law in
Hittite.

with tiya- ‘to step, assume a standing position’, which continues *steh2-.
Melchert’s hypothesis is confirmed, in his opinion, by the parallel synchronic
coexistence of two reduplicated homonymous stems titti- (one from dai- ‘to
place, put’, the other from *tai- ‘stand’) with the same respective meanings (‘to
cause to stand, install, erect’ and ‘to place, set’).
In Hittite another verb is documented, išta(n)ḫ- ‘to taste, swallow, sample,
try’, which, according to LIV 2: 590, might be considered to have the same root as
tiya- and thus traceable to PIE *steh2-. The semantic connection with the base
root may be explained in light of Eichner’s interpretation (1988: 143), according
to which the Hittite verb originally meant *‘to establish (the taste/state/
condition)’ / *‘(den Geschmack, oder den Zustand oder ähnlich) feststellen’.
Eichner highlights the shift and successive semantic specialization of the PIE
root in Hittite, from a more general meaning to a ‘kulinarisch-technisch[e]
Sonderbedeutung’ (ibid.).12 This point will be further examined below. Also,
according to HEG (A–K: 421), the etymology of the Hittite verb išta(n)ḫ- might
be traced back to PIE *steh2- by hypothesizing a semantic shift from a basic
meaning of the type ‘to bring to oneself, keep near oneself’ / ‘zu sich nehmen,
bei sich behalten’.13
In addition to išta(n)ḫ-, the verb ištantai- ‘to stay put, be late, linger’ is also, in
Tischler’s view, to be considered as having the same root; it would seem to be a
denominative formation.14 It seems to be connected (Gusmani 1968: 72) with a
nasal-infix present derived from PIE *steh2- enlarged by the characteristic den-
tal suffix -t- (otherwise found only in Germanic, cf. Goth. standan, ON standa,
OHG stantan, OE stondan ‘to stand’); cf., without dental extension, Arm. sta-
nam ‘I obtain, buy, have in hand’, Gr. (Cretan) στανύω ‘I place’, Lat. destināre ‘to
secure’. Ištantai-, then, might ultimately be connected with išta(n)ḫ-.
Puhvel also agrees (HED 2: 464–465) with the denominative origin of
ištantai- and its derivation from PIE *steh2- (like tiya-), recalling that the only
descendants of the PIE root for ‘to stand’ in Hittite seem to be tiya- and tit(ta)
nu-, without the initial s-mobile. The verb išta(n)ḫ-, on the other hand, in his
12 A semantic shift that, in Eichner’s view, was common in Hittite verbs (cf., for example,
Hitt. šanḫu- ‘to roast’, Skt. sanóti ‘wins, achieves, gains’, Gr. ἀνύω ‘I fulfill, bring to an end’
< *sn̥ h2-éw/u- < *senh2- ‘to achieve, try to accomplish’; IEW: 906, LIV2: 532). For details
and examples, see in particular nn. 66 and 67 of Eichner’s work.
13 For the other etymological proposals and for the complete attestations, refer directly to
the discussions in HED and HEG, s.vv.
14 Kronasser (ehs: 481) thinks it may derive instead from a participial form, *ištant- ‘stans’.
For other etymological proposals and for the relevant bibliography, see HEG A–K, s.v.
Kloekhorst (2008: 413–414) reconstructs a root of the type *sTeNh2/3-, which however lacks
reflexes in the other historical IE languages.

322 Pozza
view goes back to a stem *stem-H1-, and should be connected with the Hittite
verb ištamaš(š)- ‘to perceive, listen, hear; to obey’ and with the related
ištaman(a)- ‘ear’ (cf. CLuw. tummant- ‘ear’, tummantai- ‘to hear, listen’). PIE
*k̂lew- ‘to listen, hear’ and *ōws- ‘ear’ have in fact both been supplanted in Ana-
tolian by derivatives of a root *stem-. According to Puhvel (HED 2: 460), this
prototype seems to have conveyed meanings relating to sensorial/experiential
activities, and thus to ‘perceiving with the senses’ ‘on a somewhat indetermi-
nate scale […]; thus “perception” might be a more comprehensive original
gloss’. The verb išta(n)ḫ-, then, would seem to constitute a further specializa-
tion of the original PIE root, and to allow its reconstruction as *stem-H1-, fol-
lowed in the case of ištamaš(š)- by a suffix *-s-. One may compare Gr. στόμα(τ-)
‘mouth’, Av. staman ‘stomach’, Welsh safn ‘jaw, jawbone’, OHG stimma ‘voice’
(< Germ. *stemnō), all terms connected by the common denominator of sen-
sory perception.15
The impression given, after the summary just presented, is that the attempt
made by Puhvel to separate išta(n)ḫ- from the etymological series in which
Eichner (1988) also places ištantai-, tiya- and tit(ta)nu-, is intended, fundamen-
tally, to better clarify the meaning that išta(n)ḫ- conveys in Hittite, namely, that
of ‘to taste’. The connection with the verb of perception ištamaš(š)- ‘to per-
ceive, listen, hear; to obey’, in fact, enables Puhvel to provide a motivation for
such specific semantics, in relation to a supposed base *steh2-, characterized
instead by a more generic meaning and certainly further from that document-
ed in Hittite.
If, nevertheless, with Eichner (1988), one considers all four verbs in question
deriving from *steh2- (two of them, tiya- and tit(ta)nu-, maintaining a meaning
very close if not identical to that of the original root), and if one reflects on the
meanings of the two verbs (išta(n)ḫ- and ištantai) which, instead, are more
distant, as far as the semantics go, from that of the original, one can observe—
with the introduction of this paper in mind—the following: išta(n)ḫ- could
have derived from the root for ‘to stand’ and could have originally signified (as
indicated by HEG) *‘to bring to oneself, keep near oneself’, or, again (as already
proposed by Eichner), *‘to establish (the taste/state/condition)’, and in a later
period ‘to savour, taste’. Hence one could identify, without too much of a
stretch, the act of tasting with ‘to know, recognize’, or rather with entering into
contact with the object, with the aim of knowing, through the senses.16
15 For the correlation of the words for ‘ear’, ‘mouth’ and ‘voice’, see Sturtevant 1928: 123, as
well as Gusmani 1968: 85 and the bibliography cited in HEG A–K: 425.
16 A sense that would later become further specialized, as seen above, to form part of the
specific culinary lexicon.

The same applies to the verb ištantai- if it has the same root *steh2-: the act
of stopping or lingering, of tarrying, and so of ‘standing (still)’. The conse-
quence of lingering, as Carruba (1986) highlights, albeit in relation to another
root, is ‘knowledge’ (‘I linger’, hence ‘I know’). This analysis, moreover, indi-
rectly confirms Eichner’s hypothesis itself, accepted in turn by LIV 2, although
with some caution.
Perceptual and corporeal experience which comes under the domain of
taste, in fact, consists in taking something into the body (seen as a container),
in the most natural way possible, operating categorizations of the contents of
the experience itself. The perceptual metaphor to try is to taste is structured in
the analogy person who tastes → person who tries, food tasted → thing tried, to
learn is to eat/drink.17
It should be kept in mind, incidentally, that many etymons connected to
cognitive activity are linked to the senses, specifically to the experience of tast-
ing: for instance, It. sapere and Fr. savoir ‘to know’, from Lat. sapiō ‘I have the
taste of’.18 As is well-known in the field of cognitivism, the metaphor, as a way
of structuring concepts and so of connecting an abstract conceptual system
with our experience, assumes a fundamental cognitive value. In particular,
then, metaphors of spatial orientation are based on the importance that the
body assumes in space, as well as on the processes of ‘incorporation’ of con-
cepts (embodiment).19 The so-called ‘experiential semantics’ can turn out to be
of great help, particularly in the sphere of the spatial domain, which in turn
involves corporeal experience in general, in demonstrating that the compre-
hension of many linguistic phenomena resides precisely in the extralinguistic,
and that conceptualization finds its foundation in physical experiential
reality.
As things stand, it no longer seems necessary to separate išta(n)ḫ- from the
lexical series in question with the aim of being able to explain the intrinsic
meaning linked to ‘perception’; rather, it is enough to bring the concreteness of
sensory perception under the more general heading of thought, and more
17 For the metaphor ideas are food, see Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 46–47; for the metaphor
perception is reception and perception is contact between perceiver and perceived, see Lakoff
1993: 235–236.
18 ‘The sense of taste here is evidently connected not merely with general experience of
perception, but with mental experience as well’ (Sweetser 1990: 36). See especially García
Ramón 2010b for a careful examination of the relationship beween perception and cogni-
tion in IE languages.
19 For the theory of embodiment (‘incarnated, embodied cognition’), that is to say experien-
tial and corporeal rooting of concepts, see Geeraerts and Cuyckens 2007; Johnson 1987;
Lakoff 1987: 266–268, 338–339; Lakoff and Johnson 1999 and the bibliography cited there.

324 Pozza
precisely of knowledge. Belardi (1976: 82, 84), for example, observes that the
notion of ‘to know’ in the ‘pure’ state does not find expression in all languages,
and that knowledge seems to be precisely this, since it stops the soul; in fact,
when the latter is agitated and flustered it is not possible to either perceive or
think. The following analogy, therefore, can be made: to stand still = to know
(for food ‘to savour, taste’).20
Hittite seems to attest an even more concrete meaning of the root *steh2-, so
specific as to consist in a sort of direct, physical knowledge with the object
(food, in particular, išta[n]ḫ-), a ‘discovery’ of it, if made for the first time, or a
‘rediscovery’; a confirmation/verification of its essence, reached perhaps
through standing still (ištantai-): ‘to taste’ and ‘to linger’, thus, both would be
directed towards knowledge. The evidence provided by Hittite, then, would
seem to be that of attesting verbs indicating ‘to know’ starting from PIE *steh2-
(as do the other IE languages), albeit regardless of the presence of elements/
particles with localizing functions.
3 PIE *men-/mon-/mn̥- ‘to think, remember, have in mind’ in Hittite
3.1 Hittite mema/i-: concrete and abstract senses

In an article of 2010,21 R. Francia has proposed an interpretation of the Hittite
construction āppa mema/i-, starting from the verification that, in some cases,
the semantic functions conveyed by āppa (‘behind, from behind’ in postposi-
tional function; ‘again, newly; after’ in adverbial function), rather than being
directly carried out in the postpositional syntagm with the noun in ablative
function, seem to act directly on the semantics of the verb. The construction
āppa mema/i-, then, seems to convey the meaning ‘to reflect, contemplate’.
The verb mema/i-, in itself, means primarily ‘to speak, say’, and with āppa (in
adverbial function) ‘to reply, repeat, speak again’.22 However, when found with
the pronominal particle -za (which expresses a high degree of subjectivity of
expression), with the noun for ‘mind/soul’ in the dative-locative case (Zi-ni)23
and with āppa, the verb would seem to convey the meaning of ‘to speak from
20 See Giusfredi 2016 for the hypothesis that Hitt. ištanāna- ‘altar’ and ištanzan- ‘soul’ can
represent two different semantic outcomes of the same Indo-European root *steh2-.
21 Francia 2010, on the basis of textual interpretations provided in Francia 2002. For further
analysis in this regard and for the relative bibliography, the reader is referred to this
paper.
22 Cf. CHD, HED, HEG, s.vv., as well as EHS: 546, also for the remaining attestations and for
the additional semantic connotations of the adverb/postpostion. For the inflectional
class type of mema/i-, see Kümmel 2010.
23 Having, in this case, ablatival function (see Francia 2010 and the bibliography cited there).

the (bottom of one’s) mind’; that is to say, ‘to think, reflect, contemplate’ (see,
once again in Francia 2010, Gr. τὰ ἀπὸ καρδίας ἐρεῖν ‘to speak from the bottom
of one’s heart’, ἀπὸ θυμοῦ ‘according to pleasure, inclination’, in which ἀπό is
constructed with the genitive, in ablatival function, with the terms relating to
the heart, the mind, indicating the origin of a thought, in the first case beside
the verb for ‘to speak, say’, as in Hittite). Moreover, a typical Homeric phraseme
should be noted (see Dardano 2017), indicating interior monologue, such as
εἶπε πρός ὃν (μεγαλήτορα) θυμόν ‘he spake unto his own great-hearted spirit’.24
The present reflections on the ‘new’ interpretation of Hitt. āppa mema/i-
are based on in-depth analysis of some passages in which the syntagm is doc-
umented (in particular in the myth of Ullikummi, KUB 36.12 i 18–19 + KUB
33.113 i 5–6 [NH] and in the Annals of Muršili, KBo 4.4 ii 49 [NH]), where the
adverb in the context in which it appears—in accordance with Güterbock’s
observations (1952)—seems, in a certain sense, ‘superfluous’, without a real
justification.25 Consider the following examples:26
– [(nu-za dI)]ŠTAR-iš ZI-ni EGIR-pa me-mi-iš-ki-iz-zi ‘Ištar reflected’ (Ullik. 2
B i 18–19, NH);
– nu-za ma-aḫ-ḫa-an ku-u-un me-mi-an ZI-ni EGIR-pa ki-iš-ša-an AQ-BI ‘and
as I meditated (on) this event, so I wrote’ (AM, KBo 4.4 ii 49, NH).
Already Archi (1995) pointed out that the Hittites, to express what happened
within themselves, had the (Old Hittite) expression -za karti (+ possessive pro-
noun) peran mema/i- ‘to speak in front of one’s heart’, ‘to say to oneself’, ‘to
mull over’, corresponding to the Akkadian syntagm itti libbii dabābu ‘to speak
with one’s heart’, ‘to ponder, to think’.27 Only through this metaphor, Archi
24 According to Dardano (2017), the surprising correspondence between the Homeric and
the Hittite expression should be interpreted as a structural calque due to Achaean-
Anatolian contacts during the Bronze Age. The Greek expression would be the target one,
created on a foreign Near Eastern model; Hittite, in turn, may have borrowed it from Ak-
kadian. The semantic affinity between the Greek and Anatolian expressions is in fact so
strong that, according to this scholar, the possibility of a parallel development can be
ruled out.
25 Güterbock (1952: 35): ‘with no apparent reason’; ‘neither a speech addressed to her nor
another speech of her own precedes’ (the latter is a situation which would have instead
allowed the usual translation of the construction). As Francia also observes, CHD L–N:
260 translates […] EGIR-pa me-mi-iš-ki-iz-zi with ‘said’ (in no way rendering the Hittite
EGIR-pa), and […] me-mi-an Zi-ni EGIR-pa with ‘recalled’ (attributing a preverbal func-
tion to EGIR-pa, cf. the Italian prefix ri-, Latin rein its preverbal function). For a recent
analysis of the syntagm and for the relevant bibliographical references, see also Houwink
ten Cate 1998.
26 For the translation, see Francia 2010.
27 See Dardano (2018) for the hypothesis of a loan translation from Akkadian to Hittite.

326 Pozza
o bserved, could the Hittites express the activity of ‘pondering, thinking’—and

thus not by means of a specific verb.
Thus, regarding an earlier phase in which—as Francia observes (2010: 161)—
reflecting or meditating is considered an event that starts from outside one’s
body, directed toward one’s heart (-za karti peran mema/i-), in the more recent
epic texts the mind (ištanza(na)-) takes the place of the heart in the expression
of reflection, and the event seems to start from within one’s body—precisely
from the mind—to then be directed outwards, according to a process opposite
to the previous one (-za ZI-ni āppa mema/i). Therefore, the act of meditating is
felt as something that involves the personal sphere, that arises from the inner-
most part of one’s body, the soul, and is projected outwards.
In essence, we observe how a ‘concrete’ verb (mema/i- ‘to speak’), specified
with a spatial adverb, expresses a more ‘abstract’ concept (āppa/peran mema/i-
‘to reflect, contemplate’). Thus, ‘to know’ corresponds to ‘to put oneself in a
certain spatial position towards the object of knowledge’, and ‘to contemplate’,
‘to reflect’ is ‘to speak towards the outside or towards the inside of one’s heart’,
a central point of reference for empirical and interior knowledge (or for
reflection).
3.2 Hittite mema/i- and the Expression of Knowledge

The verb mema/i- was also studied by Carruba (1986), in the wake of the con-
vincing analysis by Starke (1980) of the new semantic acquisition ‘to see’28 for
the CLuw. verb manā- (comparable with HLuw. LITUUS-na- ‘to see’)29 in rela-
tion to the reduplicated form māmmanna- ‘to see’. The latter (which also means
‘to test, look upon with favour, accept’),30 according to Starke (cf. HW: 329),
seems to be linked to the Hittite verb mema/i- which in turn, as Oettinger (1979:
486 n. 72) already hypothesized, seems to correspond (see also HED 6: 139) to a
stative perfect of the type *me-mon-h2e(-i) / me-mn̥ -h2e(-i) ‘he/she knows’.
28 Rather than ‘to say, speak’, as was believed up until then (cf. especially Čop 1961: 59). For
the relevant bibliography, refer directly to the discussion of Carruba himself.
29 According to what was demonstrated by Hawkins (1980). That CLuw. manā- means ‘to see’
would seem to be confirmed by Hittite mēni/a- ‘face’ (cf. also Hitt. ma-na-a[-…], attested
only once, KUB 31.76 rev. 21, with Glossenkeil). In this regard, see Poetto (1986), who argues
for this etymology starting from the parallels supplied by the other historical IE languag-
es, which attest the etymological correlation between terms for ‘face’ and those for ‘to see’.
See also Carruba 1986 for the analysis of some specific passages in which Hittite mema/i-
seems to have the more precise meaning of ‘to recognize, know’, thus manifesting a sense
very close to ‘to see’.
30 Cf. especially Melchert 1988: 218–220, also for the connection with CLuw. mimma- ‘to ob-
serve, keep in consideration’ and for the interpretation of CLuw. māmmanna- as the dura-
tive of mamma- < Proto-Anatolian *ma-mn-.

The Hittite verb mema/i-, according to Carruba (1986), as well as ‘to speak’,
turns out to be attested as far back as Old Hittite with the meaning ‘to remem-
ber’31 and so can be usefully compared with the Latin memoro, which conveys
semantic connotations that range from ‘to remember’ to ‘to recount, give a re-
port of, say’. The Luwian and Hittite terms (Hitt. mema-/i, mēni/a-, CLuw.
manā, māmmanna-), in Carruba’s view, would seem then to share a root, and
to all derive from PIE *men-/mon-/mn̥ -, to which is commonly attributed the
meaning ‘to think, remember, have in mind’ (IEW: 726, LIV 2: 435).32
The problem, according to this scholar, is to explain why the Anatolian out-
comes of this root seem to document the meaning ‘to see’ and ‘to speak’, as
opposed to the other historical IE languages, which prevalently seem to con-
tinue the meaning of ‘to think, remember’ (see Ved. mányate ‘to think, believe;
to perceive, understand’, Gr. μέμονα ‘I have in mind’, Lat. meminī ‘I remember, I
am mindful of, I reflect’, moneō ‘I remind, I advise, I admonish’, Av. maṇtā ‘he/
she thinks’, Goth. munan ‘to reflect’, Lith. miniù ‘to think, remember’).
After going through and verifying the different hypotheses on the basis of
the attestations supplied by the various historical IE languages, Carruba reach-
es the conclusion that the original meaning must have been ‘to see’, from which
31 For this meaning, see the passages cited by Carruba (1986), especially the following (KBo
17.1 i 9–12): ta LUGAL-i SAL.LUGAL-ya kiššan mēmaḫḫi kašāta-šmaš-kan utniyandan lāluš
dāḫḫun irma(n)-šmaš-kan dāḫḫun ‘Dann erinnere ich den König und die Königin (daran),
wie folgt: Seht! Ich nahm euch die Nachrede der Bevölkerung, ich nahm euch die
Krankheit’.
32 For the relation of Hittite mema/i- to PIE *men-, see already Sturtevant 1930: 32–33. A
meaning similar to that conveyed by the Hittite is observed in Gr. μνάομαι ‘I think, con-
template’, but also ‘to remember, mention’. However, it must be pointed out that the con-
nection of the Hittite verb with the PIE root *men- may present some difficulties at the
level of phonetics, particularly in relation to the full spelling (documented in the period
of the Old Kingdom) of the initial syllable (me-e-). For the gemination of the nasal, at-
tested, though not frequently, in later periods (me-em-ma-i- KUB 17.28 ii 39, 55, me-em-
mi-ir KUB 31.64a 8 etc.), see the bibliographical references (especially Čop 1961) relating
to a possible assimilation of -mn- to -mm- supplied by HEG L–N: 187–188 and HED 6: 139;
for the passage *me-mn̥ - > mema-, see in particular HEG L–N: 189 and the bibliography
there. For the possibility that *n̥ would vocalize to a in Hittite (as in katta- ‘down-
wards’< *k/k̑m̥tm̥ etc.), see the recent observations of Melchert in this volume. For the
bibliography on this topic, see Kimball 1999: 252–253. According to Kloekhorst (2008:
574–575), mema/i- could be linked either to a base *h1em- ‘to take’ (cf. Lat. emō, Lit. imù ‘to
take’), imagining a semantic shift ‘to take (the word)’ > ‘to speak’, or to *mey- ‘to establish’
(cf. Skt. minóti ‘to establish’), on the basis of the semantic shift ‘to establish’ > ‘to state’ >
‘to speak’. Kloekhorst admits, however, that semantically neither of the two possibilities
is self-evident.

328 Pozza
‘to think’ and, in a more recent phase, ‘to speak’ would then have developed.33
Indeed, the semantic shift from the sensory field of vision to the notion of ‘to
speak’ is common in ancient IE languages.34
In particular, following the reflections made by Poetto (1986),35 one is re-
minded of Belardi’s etymological analysis of Gr. σῆμα ‘sign’, Av. dā(y)- ‘to see’,
daēman ‘eye’, Pers. dīm ‘face, cheek’, Skt. dhyāman- ‘thought’.36 These forms,
generally traced back to the PIE root *dhyā- ‘to see’ (IEW: 243, LIV 2: 141), led
Belardi to shed new light on an etymology—already advanced by Brugmann37
and presented in the main dictionaries as questionable38—and to clarify that
the prehistoric meaning of the Gr. σῆμα must have been ‘what is seen, what is
visible’, ‘the semblance of things’, i.e. ‘what—through sight—draws the atten-
tion of the mind’. The verb of visual perception ‘see’, then, represents a univer-
sal source for metaphorical extension to verbs of cognition such as ‘think’ and
‘know’, as demonstrated by Sweetser (1990).39
It remains uncertain, though, whether Anatolian, which attests, as has been
shown, the notion of ‘to see’ (CLuw. manā-, HLuw. LITUUS-na-, Hitt. mēni/a-
40 ‘face’, manā- ‘to see’) and that of ‘to speak’ (Hitt. mema/i-), passed through
the phase of ‘to think’, ‘to remember’.41
33 See also cases such as Sp. veo and Engl. I see in the sense of ‘I know, I understand, I com-
prehend’, or I observe ‘I watch, notice’, but also ‘I make observations, state, utter as a
remark’.
34 See among others Silvestri 2000.
35 See n. 29.
36 Belardi 1999.
37 Brugmann and Delbrück 1886–1900 ii: 348.
38 See for example edg: 1323; gew: 696; delg: 998.
39 More recently, García Ramón (2010b) has shown that in ancient IE languages all possible
relations between perception (namely, visual/auditory perception, smell and taste as
sources for ‘to know’) and cognition are attested. See also Aikhenvald and Storch 2013 for
a typological perspective on the issue.
40 See in particular Rieken 1999: 56.
41 Carruba’s subsequent reflection is interesting: as we know, for PIE it would seem neces-
sary to reconstruct a root homonymous with the previous one, *men-/mon-/mn̥-, with the
meaning of ‘to tarry, linger, stay’ (cf. Gr. μένω, μίμνω, Skt. man- ‘to wait, stay, tarry’, Lat.
maneō, Arm. mnam ‘I stay, wait’). The two roots are generally listed under two different
headings (see LIV2, s.vv.: 1. *men- ‘einen Gedanken fassen’; 2. *men- ‘bleiben, warten’),
though without ruling out some affinity between them, based on a formal but also a
semantic relationship. Thus, in fact, Carruba maintains that a connection can be made
between Lat. mora and memor (notwithstanding the doubts of dell, s.vv.), as well as
between Gr. μένω and μέμονα (see Čop 1961 for the first connection made between Hitt.
mema/i- and Gr. μέμονα), based on the parallelism ‘I wait, I linger’, ‘I have waited, I have
lingered’, so ‘I think, I have in mind’. In Carruba’s view, then, it is possible to ascribe the

4 Concluding Remarks
Thanks to Francia (2010) and Archi (1995), light has been thrown on this spe-
cific question and it has been possible to observe, in Hittite mema/i- (if con-
strued, as we have seen, with āppa or with peran), the meaning of ‘to think,
reflect, contemplate’, an analysis confirmed in turn by Belardi’s reflections on
literal localizing semantics (‘to speak from/towards’) leading to abstract meta-
phorical semantics (‘to reflect, contemplate’).
The Anatolian branch, then, seems to document all three connotations that
Carruba hypothesized were part of the same semantic procedure (‘to see’ → ‘to
think’ → ‘to speak’),42 and Anatolian thus proves to be the only IE branch to
have maintained the oldest meanings of the original root (that is ‘to see’ in
Luwian, but also ‘face’ in Hittite, see above). Hittite, which furthermore docu-
ments the more recent meaning of ‘to speak’,43 seems to have also possessed
the ‘phase’ of ‘to think’ (expressed via the metaphor of the relationship with
the heart, the mind or soul according to a spatial dimension). As already noted
by Vendryes (1932: 206), ‘les verbes qui expriment l’idée de “voir” ont pris par-
fois le sens de “dire”. Par la parole on exprime ce que l’on voit, même s’il s’agit
d’une pure vision de l’esprit’.
The meaning ‘to think, to reflect’, which emerges from the attestations cited
in Francia’s work, seems to have crystallized thanks precisely to the presence
of āppa and, earlier, of peran (see Archi 1995). Hence the Hittite construction
āppa mema/i-, for which Francia has supplied a new semantic interpretation,
seems to represent the vestige of an ancient meaning of the verb mema/i- ‘to
think’ (very probably ‘to think repeatedly’ = ‘to reflect’). The two recurrences
(see above) that allow this meaning to emerge, principally those of an older era
meanings conveyed by the Luwian terms to the root *men- ‘to tarry’, since the meanings
‘to see’ and ‘to wait’ may be ‘consequential’. Though it is not possible to establish whether
‘to see’ should be interpreted as a consequence of ‘to tarry’ or vice versa, it seems evident
to Carruba that the verb ‘to think’, as an abstract characteristic, should be interpreted in
any case as a ‘consequence’ of a perception/sensorial action.
42 For the metaphor to understand is to see, see Lakoff and Johnson 1999: 53–54. Further-
more, ‘in the case of physical objects, if we can grasp an object and hold it in our hands,
we can look at it carefully and so have a reasonably good understanding of it’ (Lakoff and
Johnson 1980: 20). This observation further clarifies the semantic connection between the
verbs in question. From a historical-linguistic point of view, it is enough simply to think
of the well-known passage from PIE *weyd- ‘to see’ to the historical perfect forms convey-
ing the value of ‘to know’ (Ved. véda, Av. vaēdā, Gr. οἶδα ‘I know’).
43 ‘Letzte Entwicklungsstufe’, also according to Čop (1961: 60), who holds that Hittite main-
tained the ‘akustische Seite’ of the original meaning of the PIE root.

330 Pozza
(in which mema/i- is found with peran),44 seem to be relics (preserved thanks
to the presence of appā or peran and the noun for the mind/soul in the dative-
locative case) which reemerge alongside the meaning of ‘to speak’, a meaning
that would then be generalized. In any case, the coexistence in Hittite of the
meaning ‘to think’ and ‘to speak’ for the verb mema/i- does not affect the pro-
cess, hypothesized by Carruba, by which ‘to think’ seems itself to be a develop-
ment of ‘to see’.
In the case of āppa/peran mema/i-, it has been observed that the postposi-
tion, added to the simple verb, from the concrete meaning (‘to speak’) allows a
metaphorical, figurative interpretation (‘to contemplate, think’). The continu-
ants of the root *men- in the other historical IE languages, in any case, preserve
the meaning ‘to think, have in mind’, regardless of any adverbial specifications.
This might lead one to believe that in Hittite a semantic specialization of the
original root occurred, documented in the ‘concrete’ verb ‘to speak’. The Hittite
verb, however, when found with a localizing element, seems also to have as-
sumed a figurative meaning (‘to contemplate, think, reflect’), perfectly coincid-
ing with those conveyed by the majority of the historical IE languages.
The expressive procedure documented by Hittite in the syntagm āppa/per-
an mema/i-, parallel to the syntagmatic strategies observed by Belardi (1976)
for the historical elements continuing PIE *steh2-, thus constitutes another
structural analogy, which is hardly coincidental. In fact, the hypothesis put for-
ward in the present paper, which, as we have seen, is valid from a general point
of view, can be demonstrated on a documentary basis, through structural com-
parison with data from other historical IE languages.
In conclusion, the analysis carried out by R. Francia, together with A. Archi’s
earlier study, represents further evidence confirming the data gathered and
explored by W. Belardi and O. Carruba, and places the Anatolian group among
those ancient IE languages in which literal localizing and abstract metaphori-
cal semantics coexist, substantiated in linguistic expression with a great wealth
of lexical nuances.
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334 Pozza
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Chapter 16
Hittite Syntax 100 Years Later: The Case of Hittite

Indefinite Pronouns
Andrei V. Sideltsev
Abstract
This paper deals with modern advances in the syntax of Hittite indefinite pronouns,
focusing on the position of indefinite pronouns in the clause. Following Huggard 2015
and Sideltsev 2015a, 2015b, it is argued that indefinite pronouns occupy the second
position in the clause, but this second position is determined in two ways: from the left
edge of the clause, and within the immediately preverbal position. Modern syntactic
theory provides a tool to understand this seemingly random distribution within the
framework of phase theory, according to which the clause is built up in two “chunks”
(vP and CP). Hittite indefinite pronouns appear to occupy the second position within
each of these chunks. The paper discusses and removes minor problems of phase anal-
ysis as applied to Hittite.
Keywords
Hittite – syntax – indefinite pronouns – second position – phase theory
1 Introduction
The paper will deal with recent developments in Hittite syntax, namely the
syntax of indefinite pronouns, which have become possible by making use of
modern syntactic theory in research on Hittite syntax.
It has recently been suggested that indefinite pronouns do not pattern with
the rest of the verbal arguments, which are normally positioned according to
the dominant sov word order in Hittite with certain modifications due to
information structure effects (see Goedegebuure 2014; Sideltsev 2015b). The in-
definite pronouns rather attest a very curious twofold distribution in the
clause: they are either in clause-second position (Sideltsev 2015a; cf. Hug-
gard 2015) or immediately preverbal (Sideltsev 2002, 2014, 2015a, 2015b; Huggard

336 Sideltsev
2015). The immediately preverbal position is seen in (1a), and the clause-sec-
ond position is seen in (1b):
(1a) NH/NS (CTH 61.ii.4) KUB 14.17+ obv. ii 18’

[m]ān uniuš lugal meš uruN[uḫa]šši arnu-manzi kuwatqa šanḫ-un
if that.acc.pl.n kings Nuhassi move-inf somehow seek-1sg.pst
“If I somehow sought to extradite those kings of Nuhassi,…”
(1b) NH/NS (CTH 123.A) KBo 4.14 obv. ii 30–31

mānn=a=ta=kkan lú kur uru
Ḫatti kuiški
if=and=you=loc man land Hatti some.nom.sg.c
apēdani [mēḫun-i] egir–pa anda tiya-zi
that.loc.sg time-loc.sg back in step-3sg.prs
“And if in this [matter] some man from Hattusa comes to you…”
See Sideltsev 2015a for the details of the distribution, especially for the fact that
a certain set of words do not count as the first position. This is the same set
which does not count as the first position for -(m)a (see Sideltsev and Molina
2015). One of its members is seen in (1b), namely mān “if”. Some others will
turn up later, e.g., našma “or” in (2) and the irrealis particle man in (4a).
A somewhat similar distribution is attested for relative pronouns, some sub-
ordinators and, with important qualifications, wh-words, with the important
difference that they all can be clause-initial/first (Becker 2014; Goedegebuure
2009; Huggard 2015; Yates 2015). It has been repeatedly suggested that among
these lexical classes of words it is the syntactic function which determines the
position of the word in the clause: subjects occur at the beginning of the clause
(in first or second position) in the canonical subject position, whereas objects
occur in the canonical object position in an sov language (Becker 2014; Goede-
gebuure 2009; Huggard 2015). E.g., Goedegebuure (2009) claimed that subject
wh-words are predominantly clause-first/initial whereas object and adverbial
wh-words are predominantly preverbal: subject wh-words are clause-initial
6 times in her limited corpus and preverbal once, whereas object wh-words
are never initial and 5 times preverbal (Goedegebuure 2009). Thus both sub-
ject and object wh-phrases appear in their canonical, i.e. base-generated
positions.
In this light, it is naturally tempting to assess the similar distribution of in-
definite pronouns along similar lines.

Hittite Syntax 100 Years Later 337
2 Second Position
First I will deal with the indefinite pronouns in second position or in a position
ambiguous between second and preverbal position. They are distributed as fol-
lows in the clause:
canonical word order (Sindef -O-V, Sindef -X-V) is attested 25× and consti-
tutes 69% of all second-position indefinite pronouns;
noncanonical word order (O/Xindef -S-V) is attested 11× and constitutes

31% of all second-position indefinite pronouns.
The former word order (Sindef -O/X-V) is illustrated by (2) and the latter (O/
Xindef -S-V) by (3):
(2) NH/NS (CTH 255.1.A) KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 26–27

[na]šma=za dumu lugal kuiški gùb-an
or=refl prince some.nom.sg.c wicked-acc.sg.n
uttar ana lú sag [aw]an gam memai
matter. acc.sg.n to courtier away down tell.3sg.prs
“[O]r some prince divulges a wicked matter to a courtier,…”
(3) NH/NS (CTH 584) KUB 31.71(+?) obv. ii 24’–27’

anše.kur.ra meš=ma=wa imma kuiēšqa ina é.gal–lì
horses=but=quot intens some.nom.pl.c in palace
f
Zamuwatti-š mān wēk-ta
Zamuwatti-nom.sg.c like ask-3sg.pst
“(Someone) like Zamuwatti asked for some horses at the palace”.
These data concerning the second position could be easily interpreted as sec-
ond position indefinite pronouns occupying the canonical subject position
and thus preceding direct objects and adverbial modifiers. The second position
follows mostly from the fact that the indefinite pronoun is simultaneously sec-
ond within its phrase and within the clause. In this interpretation, the differ-
ence between second position indefinite pronouns and immediately preverbal
indefinite pronouns would be between indefinite pronouns in canonical sub-
ject position and those in direct object position.

338 Sideltsev
However, that this is not so is seen once the data concerning the immedi-
ately preverbal/postverbal position are taken into account. The indefinite pro-
nouns in the immediately preverbal position show the following distribution:
noncanonical word order (O/X-Sindef -V, O-Sindef -Xindef -V) is attested 23

(64%); it is noteworthy that among them there are 5 cases of split noun
phrase, where the subject indefinite pronoun is immediately preverbal
whereas the rest of the noun phrase is in the left periphery;
canonical word order (SO/Xindef V) is attested 13× and constitutes 36%
of all preverbal indefinite pronouns.
The former (O/X-Sindef -V) is illustrated by (5), whereas the latter (SO/Xindef V)
is seen in (4):
(4a) MH/MS (CTH 188) HKM 46 rev. 15–16

man=kan dutu–š=i beli=ya belu kuinki parā nai-tti
if.irr=loc Majesty=my lord=my lord some out send-2sg.prs
“If your Majesty, my lord, were to send some lord,…”,
(4b) NH/NS (CTH 106.i.1) Bo 86/299 obv. ii 25

kinuna=za mān dutu–š=i ša gu 4 udu ḫi.a kuitki ašru
now=refl if Majesty=my of ox sheep some.acc.sg.n place
šešḫa-ḫḫi
designate-1sg.prs
“If now I, My Majesty, designate some place for the raising of oxen and sheep,…”
(4c) NH/NS (CTH 577) KUB 5.11 i 26–27

aši ù ša dingir–lì kuinki tuku.tuku–t-an [išiy]aḫ-ta
this dream of god some.acc.sg.c anger-acc.sg.c show-3sg.prs
“Did this dream reveal some anger of the deity?”
(5) NH/NS (CTH 584) KUB 15.1+ obv. ii 6–8

šà ù=kan gim–an munus.lugal ina uru
Iyamma
inside dream=loc when queen in Iyamma
é
tarnuw-i egir–an lú meš guruš kuiēšqa
bathhouse-LOC.SG behind men young some.NOM.PL.C
ḫatkiššanu-šk-ir
oppress-IMPF-3PL.PST
“When in a dream some young men behind/at the back of the bathhouse in Iyamma
(intended to) oppress the queen…”

Thus as far as the immediately preverbal position is concerned, it is obvious

that there is no statistically meaningful correlation between the preverbal in-
definite pronoun and its syntactic role as a direct object. Contrary to expecta-
tions, preverbal indefinite pronouns are in that position irrespective of their
function as subject or direct object/adverbial modifier. What is more, subject
indefinite pronouns are attested preverbally even more commonly than object/
adverbial modifier indefinite pronouns.
Thus the data unambiguously show that there is no meaningful correlation
between the syntactic function of the indefinite pronoun and its position in
the clause—second or immediately preverbal.
2.1. Specificity as the Conditioning Factor?

But do second and preverbal positions of indefinite pronouns differ in some
respects? A suggestion was made by Huggard (2015), who interpreted the dis-
tinction between second vs. preverbal position as conditioned by the presup-
position status of indefinite pronouns: those in the immediately preverbal
position are part of the assertion and nonspecific, whereas those in the second
position are part of the presupposition and specific. However, it was shown in
Sideltsev 2015a, 2018 that this is not so and there is again no meaningful corre-
lation between the position of the pronoun and its specificity.
2.2. Syntactic Clitics

Instead, it has been suggested in Sideltsev 2018 that the distribution of second
and preverbal indefinite pronouns is to be described as that of syntactic clitics
with two positions in the clause.
Whereas crosslinguistically either only second position or close-to-verb
(immediately pre- or postverbal) positions for clitic placement are attested
(Spencer and Luís 2012), languages with both second position and preverbal
(or rather verb-adjacent) clitics are also attested, e.g., Old Church Slavonic,
Old Bulgarian and Old Serbian (Pancheva 2005: 116–117). See the following Old
Church Slavonic examples from Pancheva (2005: 116):
(6a) Ouže ti neprijaznъ ne oudobъjajetъ

no.longer you.cl disfavor neg rule.3sg.prs
“Disfavor is no longer over you”.
(6b) Do kolě trъrpljǫ vy?
Until how.much suffer.1sg.prs you.cl
“How long shall I suffer you?”
Actually, a similar solution was offered by Huggard (2015), but he preferred to

interpret indefinite pronouns as second within the verbal phrase on the one

340 Sideltsev
hand, and within the noun phrase on the other. This produced for him second
vs. immediately preverbal positions of indefinite pronouns. See, however,
Sideltsev 2018, where it has been argued at length that the second position of
indefinite pronouns is simultaneously within the clause and within the noun
phrase, not just within the noun phrase. Thus the relevant distinction is be-
tween second position in the left periphery vs. second position in the immedi-
ately preverbal position.
3 Second vs Preverbal Positions
The second aspect which I will tackle in the present paper concerns how differ-
ent second and preverbal positions are. In my own previous work, it has been
supposed that only second position is strictly second, whereas in preverbal po-
sition the indefinite pronoun may be syntactically first (Sideltsev 2015a).
Before I evaluate the argument, it is necessary to understand how one de-
fines the position of the indefinite pronoun. This is generally easy at the left
edge of the clause: it is second after the first phonological word with a few well
understood exceptions, for which see Sideltsev and Molina 2015; Sideltsev
2015a. However, the same is obviously not applicable to the immediately pre-
verbal position. Here the indefinite pronoun is in any case within the clause
and its position is defined not so much by the pronoun being second after a
word or a constituent, but by the pronoun being immediately in front of the
verb. Thus Hittite indefinite pronouns appear exactly parallel to Slavic enclitics
which are clause-second at the left edge of the clause, but which may also ap-
pear verb-oriented within the clause: they may be either immediately prever-
bal or immediately postverbal, see above (6).
If we leave out of account those cases which are ambiguous between second
and immediately preverbal or immediately postverbal position,1 Hittite verb-
adjacent pronouns are very obviously immediately preverbal in the absolute
majority of cases:
total 135×
preverbal 117× (87%)
postverbal which is not clause-second 18× (23%).
However, there are data which cannot be reconciled with positing that Hittite
attests verb-oriented clitics alongside second-position clitics. The main fact is
that there are preverbal indefinite pronouns which are within a noun phrase
they do not belong to:
1 Preverbal = second are attested 157×, whereas postverbal = second are attested 24×.
(7a) NH/NS (CTH 382.A) KBo 11.1 rev. 9’

mān=za! ḫul-za=ma mušen-az lúmušen.dù-it <<našma>>
if=refl evil-abl=but bird-abl augur-instr or
ša gidim kwiški ninda-an […]
of dead somebody.nom.sg.c bread-acc.sg.c
“But if somebody […] the bread of a dead person by means of evil bird <<or>> with
help of an augur…”2
(7b) NH/NS (CTH 383.1) KUB 21.19+ rev. iv 18’–20’

nu=kan mān apāt ḫul–lu uttar
conn=loc if that.acc.sg.n evil.acc.sg.n matter.acc.sg.n
tuliya kwiški anda memai
assembly.loc.sg someone.nom.sg.c in speak.3sg.prs
“And if someone speaks about that evil matter in the assembly,…”3
(7c) NH/NS (CTH 577) KUB 5.24+ obv. ii 13–14,

kī=wa d
utu uru
pú–na ša mKur kuwatqa
this=quot sungodddess Arinna of Kur somehow
uttar egir–pa sud-at
matter.ACC.SG.N back draw-3SG.PST
“The Sungoddess of Arinna wanted to prolong this matter of Kur somehow,…”
(7d)
NH/NS (CTH 68.E) KUB 6.44+ obv. iv 20–21
[nu mān t]uk=ma ana mKupanta-dlamma ša dutu–š=i
conn or you.dat.sg=but to Kupanta-Kurunta of Majesty=my
[(kuiški) ḫu]l–lu-n <memiyan> peran memai
some.nom.sg.c evil-acc.sg.n word.acc.sg.c before say.3sg.prs
“If so[(meon)]e speaks an evil wor[d] concerning My Majesty [b]efore you,
Kupanta-Kurunta,…”
(7e) NH/NS (CTH 68.E) KUB 6.44+ obv. iv 28–29

[mān t]uk=ma ana mKupanta-dlamma ša d
utu–š=i
if you.dat.sg=but to Kupanta-Kurunta of Majesty=my
kuiški [idālu-n] memian peran memai
Kupanta-Kurunta,…”
2 Cf. Singer (2002: 84), who splits the clause into two, but has a verbless first clause.
3 Cf. Singer 2002: 100.
342 Sideltsev
(7f) NH/NS (CTH 76.A) KBo 19.73+ rev. iii 26–27

mān tuk=ma ana mAlakša[(nd)]u ša d
utu–š=i
if you.dat.sg=but to Alaksandu of Majesty=my
ku[(išk)]i ḫul–lu-n memiya[n p]eran memai
Alaksa[(nd)]u,…”
In all these cases, the indefinite pronoun is within a phrase which it is not part
of. Thus in (7a) the pronoun kwiški “somebody” is within ša gidim ninda-an
“bread of a dead person”. In (7b) it breaks up what I interpret to be a postposi-
tional phrase tuliya anda “at the assembly”. In (7c) the pronoun breaks up the
phrase ša mKur uttar “matter of Kur”. In three similar examples (7d–f) the
indefinite pronoun breaks up the phrase ša dutu–š=i idālun memian “an evil
word concerning My Majesty”. In other words, in all these examples the indefi-
nite pronoun breaks up a phrase in immediately preverbal position, just as in-
definite pronouns frequently do in second position (see for the latter Huggard
2015 and Sideltsev 2015a, who did not recognize the same thing going on in
preverbal position). The examples in (7) are not statistically very common:
they are attested only 6 times in my corpus4 vs. 111 preverbal indefinite pro-
nouns, and may seem to constitute a statistically insignificant 5% of the total
number of preverbal indefinite pronouns.
But before any definitive conclusions are drawn, we have to consider what
exactly constitutes 111 indefinite pronouns in immediately preverbal position.
In 42 cases, the indefinite pronoun in the immediately preverbal position is
also within its phrase, and within its phrase it is second. In 6 cases, the pro-
noun in the preverbal position is similarly within its phrase, but it is third.
If seen in this context, the 6 cases above in (7) fit in very well. They show
that it is another noun phrase that provides the second position for the in-
definite pronoun in immediately preverbal position, and that closeness to
the verb is not an obligatory requirement for the position of the indefinite
pronoun. The clause-internal pronoun is indeed in the majority of cases
verb-adjacent—mostly preverbal and more rarely postverbal—but in a num-
ber of cases the verb demonstrably does not satisfy the second position re-
quirement for it.
4 See for the texts which were included in the corpus Sideltsev 2015a. I have now enlarged it
with all the prayers (as opposed to Sideltsev 2015a, where only a selection was taken into ac-
count). The statistical counts were made on a smaller corpus of c. 17,000 clauses which in-
cludes prayers, a selection of treaties, letters, instructions, the Apology and Annals of Muršili
and Šuppiluliumma, court proceedings, vows and dreams, the Indictment of Madduwatta,
and tablet catalogues.
Even though the distribution can be precisely formulated without resorting

to modern syntactic theory, understanding the distribution is only possible by
making use of modern theoretical syntax in the shape of minimalist formal-
ism. This provides the necessary tool to capture and explain the seemingly
random distribution of indefinite pronoun placement.
In this vein, one might follow the suggestion of Huggard (2015) and Sideltsev
(2018) that we are in reality dealing with phase-sensitive placement of indefi-
nite pronouns: indefinite pronouns are placed at the edge of two phases, CP
and vP. Clause-second position will result from the pronoun being at the edge
of the higher phase, namely CP, whereas a preverbal pronoun will result from
the pronoun being at the edge of the lower phase, namely vP.
Phase theory was introduced in Chomsky 2001 and suggests that syntactic
structure is built up in phases. Three phases, DP, vP and CP, are posited for the
clause. “…[T]he computational component of the Language Faculty can only
hold limited amounts of syntactic structure in its working memory at any one
time, and … clause structure is built up in phases” (Radford 2004: 426). “At the
end of each phase, part of the syntactic structure already formed undergoes
transfer to the phonological and semantic components, with the result that
the relevant part of the structure is inaccessible to further syntactic operations
from that point on” (Radford 2004: 381). For more detail, see the introductory
assessment in Radford 2004: 381–427.
In this case, the position of the pronoun will follow from the fact that it has
to be second both at the left edge of the clause and within vP. Its second posi-
tion requirement within vP will be provided by any material which stays with-
in vP—either material within its own phrase or, if the pronoun is bare, i.e. has
no complement phrase, by material from another phrase, as is seen in (7)
above.
In case no noun phrase is within vP, it is the verb that provides the second
position requirement by raising so that it is to the left of the indefinite pro-
noun. This explains the cases where the indefinite pronoun is postverbal (Hug-
gard 2015).
However, what do we make of the 6× where the pronoun in preverbal posi-
tion is similarly within its phrase, but is in third position, and the 4× where it is
first within its phrase? Or of the 55× where the preverbal pronoun is bare, but
it does not break another phrase?
These cases are ignored in Huggard 2015, but they deserve to be assessed in
detail. In Sideltsev 2015a, 2018 it was suggested that the second position con-
straint operates mostly at the left edge of the clause, but it is not so consistent
within the clause. However, no systematic research of the cases at hand has
ever been provided.
In an attempt to do so now, I will start from the statistics again.

344 Sideltsev
All preverbal indefinite pronouns 119×

preverbal bare pronouns not breaking up a phrase 55× (46%),
preverbal bare pronouns breaking up a phrase 6× (5%),
preverbal, second within the phrase, not breaking a constituent: 42× (35%),
preverbal, split of the phrase: 6× (5%),
preverbal, third within its phrase: 6× (5%),
preverbal, first within its phrase: 4× (3%).
The 42× (which constitute 35%) preverbal pronouns second within the phrase
are second within their own phrases, and thus they support the hypothesis
that the distribution of indefinite pronouns in immediately preverbal position
is along the same lines as that at the left edge of the clause—they are in second
position. Second position at the left edge of the clause is counted from the left
edge of the clause, whereas second position within the clause is counted from
the edge of the verbal group, vP in the minimalist program.
It is the statistically dominant preverbal pronouns, attested 55× (46%),
which are bare but which do not break up a phrase that are a problem. The first
part of the problem is whether they can be shown to be second after some-
thing; the second part of the problem is whether they do not break up a phrase
to be second in the majority of cases.
In the majority of cases, it is a noun or a preverb that provides the second
position requirement, as in (8a–b):
(8a)
NH/NS (CTH 81.A) KUB 1.1+ rev. iii 14
[gim–(an=ma)] ui-t ištu é.lugal di-eššar kuitki
when=but go-3sg.pst by palace lawsuit.nom.sg.n somehow
egir–pa ḫuitti)]ya-ttat
back draw-3sg.pst.med
“Now when it happened that the lawsuit was somehow reopened by the palace,…”
Here it is the subject noun phrase di-eššar “lawsuit” which satisfies the second
position requirement of the indefinite pronoun within the clause. In the fol-
lowing case, it is the preverb parā that satisfies the second position require-
ment of the indefinite pronoun:

(8b) NH/NS (CTH 255.1.A) KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 7–8

našma=kan lugal parā kuedanikki watarnaḫ-zi
or=loc king out someone.dat.sg entrust-3sg.prs
“…or the king gives someone an order…”
Pace Huggard 2015, it is (8a) that statistically dominates in my corpus. See Side-
ltsev 2015a for the data that indefinite pronouns are normally in front of (= to
the left of) the preverb. In the present paper other such cases may be seen, e.g.,
in (12a) and (13) below.
However, this construal will entail several difficulties. The main one is that
it will require the completely random assumption that a noun phrase remains
within the verbal phrase (vP) in virtually all cases when there is an indefinite
pronoun in the clause, but that it leaves the vP in practically all other cases.
Here a very brief excursus in the formal representation of Hittite syntax will
have to be provided. It is standardly believed that all verbal arguments—
subjects and objects primarily—are generated low in the clause within the ver-
bal phrase (vP) as specifier of vP (subject) and as complement of VP (object).
Then they move up either to some projections within the layer that immedi-
ately dominates vP (TP; Huggard 2015) or to still higher projections which are
responsible for the information structure statuses of topics and foci (CP; Side-
ltsev 2015b). It has been argued that in Hittite virtually all noun phrases leave
vP (Sideltsev 2015b). The very bare tree is:
CP
TP
vP
VP
Figure 16.1

346 Sideltsev
Now, it was supposed above that the immediately preverbal position of in-
definite pronouns is at the edge of vP. So if we follow the idea that a noun
provides the second position requirement for the indefinite pronoun in
immediately preverbal position, it will mean that in all cases one noun phrase
has to stay within vP where it is generated just to provide later the second posi-
tion for the indefinite pronoun, whereas the other noun phrase will raise out of
vP, just as is expected for Huggard (2015) and Sideltsev (2015b). In the absolute
majority of other cases not involving indefinite pronouns, all the noun phrases
will raise out of vP. This solution obviously strains credulity, and cannot be
upheld at face value.
To keep the explanation for indefinite pronouns which I currently believe to
be along the right path, I propose to modify the representation of the Hittite
clause laid out in Huggard 2015 and Sideltsev 2015a, b as follows. I will propose
that all verbal arguments—subjects and objects—are assigned case within vP
as suggested above: as specifier of vP (subject) and as complement of VP (ob-
ject). This follows mostly from the fact that indefinite and negative pronouns
which are low in the clause are assigned case:5 nominative case is valued
through Agree between the external argument in [Spec, vP] and T0.6 Pace Hug-
gard 2015 and Sideltsev 2015, they do not obligatorily move out of vP, but do so
only in case they are marked as topics or foci. In case they are not, it is only the
highest argument—normally the subject—that raises to Spec,CP. The other
arguments, commonly objects, stay within vP. Now if in the clause there is an
indefinite pronoun or other words with a second position requirement such as
relative pronouns and some subordinators, the verbal argument that stayed
within vP raises to the edge of vP to satisfy the second position requirement of
indefinite pronouns, etc.
This account will elegantly deal with virtually all the difficulties encoun-
tered in Huggard 2015 and Sideltsev 2015a, b. Moreover, it is parallelled crosslin-
guistically. See, e.g., a virtually identical construal for Czech by Sturgeon (2008),
who posits that internal arguments of the verb (objects) are base-generated
within the VP and the external argument (subject) is located in the specifier
position of a dominating functional projection, vP. The head of this projection,
v0, licenses structural accusative case on verbal objects within the VP. Spec,CP
is not a position associated with case licensing, but is rather an A-bar position.
This position is filled in one of two ways: by raising the highest XP within the
vP domain, or by attracting an XP with a particular discourse function (con-
trastive topic or focus; Sturgeon 2008: 8).
5 Just as, e.g., in Ossetic (Lyutikova and Tatevosov 2009).

6 Not C0, as suggested by Sturgeon (2008: 8) for Czech.

Now as was stressed in Sideltsev 2015a, indefinite pronouns in second posi-

tion at the left edge of the clause always follow the phonological word, not the
syntactic constituent (see Sideltsev 2015a), as illustrated in (9):
(9) NH/NS (CTH 68.C) KBo 5.13 obv. ii 17’–18’, w.l.,

[našma] ana dutu–š=i kuiški waggariyawaš
or to Majesty=my somebody.nom.sg.c revolt.gen.sg
uttar menaḫḫanda šanḫa-zi
matter.acc.sg.n against seek-3sg.prs
“[Or] (if) someone plots a matter of revolt against My Majesty, (and he flees before
me and comes to you, and you do not seize him and turn him over to me…)”
Here the phrase “a matter of revolt against My Majesty” is broken by the indefi-
nite pronoun kuiški, particularly the subphrase ana dutu–š=i waggariyawaš
“revolt against My Majesty”, so that the pronoun is second within the clause
after the first phonological word of the phrase, and not of the whole constitu-
ent or subconstituent.7
So at the left edge of the clause, the second position of the indefinite pro-
noun is provided in 100% of examples by a word, not a phrase. The only case
eligible for an indefinite pronoun to be second after a phrase at the left edge of
the clause can be explained as the univerbation of a preverb + nominal form of
the verb (egir-pa sum-antan “extradited person”):
(10) NH/NS (CTH 255.1.A) KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 38–39

nu=za mān egir-pa sum–ant-an kuiški ti-tar
conn=refl if back give-PRTC.acc.sg.c some.nom.sg.c life.acc.sg.n
ilaliya-zi
wish-3sg.prs
“If someone hopes that (some) extradited person should survive”.
In this light, the construal of indefinite pronouns in immediately preverbal po-

sition might be seen as involving disproportionately many branching phrases,
not just phonological words. However, upon closer look, the difference between
clause-second position and preverbal second position is minimal. Thus, if we
assume that the second position requirement always has to be provided by
something clause-internally, we will get statistics for the immediately preverbal
7 See Sideltsev 2015a for the fact that našma is not counted when the second position is deter-
mined, just as for -(m)a “but”.

348 Sideltsev
position which are only slightly divergent from the statistics for the left edge of
the clause. In just 2× out of 55× (3.6%), one of them fragmentary, the indefinite
pronoun will follow a branching constituent in immediately preverbal posi-
tion, as illustrated by (11):
(11a) NH/NS (CTH 382.A) KBo 11.1 obv. 16

mān=ma=kanD10 ḪUR.SAGMEŠ ÍDMEŠ altanni[š P]ÚḪI.A
if=but=loc Storm.god mountains rivers, wells springs
kwitki TUKU.TUKU–nu-[er]
somehow anger-3pl.pst
“If mountains, rivers, wells or springs have angered the Storm-god in some way,…”
(11b) NH/lNS (CTH 67) KBo 5.4 rev. 31–32,

našma=kan érin meš anše.k[ur.ra meš damm]el mēḫun-aš
or=loc infantry chariotry another.gen.sg time-loc.pl
kuwapikki dala-tti
somewhere abandon-2sg.prs
“Or if you abandon the infantry and chariotry somewhere in [othe]r times,…”
In (11a) the bare indefinite pronoun follows a phrase which consists of several
phonological words: ḪUR.SAG MEŠ ÍD MEŠ altanni[š P]ÚḪI.A “mountains, rivers,
wells (or) springs”. In (11b) it similarly follows the phrase [damm]el mēḫuna “in
[othe]r times”, although the example is uncertain due to its fragmentary
character.
But in the other 95% of cases, the indefinite pronoun will follow a constitu-
ent which is one phonological word, as seen in (12):
(12a) NH/NS (CTH 255.2.A) KUB 26.1+ rev. iii 37–38

našma=*kan ana* dutu–š=i āššuwann-i kuiški andan
or=loc to Majesty=my favor-loc.sg someone.nom.sg.c into
ne-anza
turn-prtc.nom.sg.c
“Or (if) someone is favorably disposed to My Majesty,…”
Here the bare indefinite pronoun kuiški follows āššuwanni “favourably”.
(12b) NH/NS (CTH 293) KUB 13.35 rev. iv 15

našma=wa=nnaš anzāš ziladuwa kuitki du-mmēni
or=quot=refl us in.the.future something.acc.sg.n take-1pl.prs
“Or if in the future we take something for ourselves,…”

Here the indefinite pronoun follows ziladuwa “in the future”. Thus indefinite
pronouns in preverbal position behave in basically the same way as indefinite
pronouns at the left edge of the clause.
Besides, one can argue that the very counts for clause-second position in
Sideltsev 2015a are flawed: they obviously force one to adopt the “second after
a word” position for the indefinite pronoun in the left periphery of a clause,
because all the cases which are eligible for “second after a constituent” posi-
tion are automatically labelled there as occurring in immediately preverbal
position. If we assess the indefinite pronoun as following a constituent, it will
be in 9× out of 55× (16%) ambiguous between second and immediately prever-
bal position, as in the following example:
(13) MH/NS (CTH 258.1.A) KUB 13.9+ rev. iii 19’

anda=ma mān ḫannan di–*šar ku*iški
into=but if judge.prtc.acc.sg.n case.acc.sg.n someone.nom.sg.c
egir–pa dāi
back take.3sg.prs
“Moreover, if anyone takes (up) an adjudicated case again…”
Here the indefinite pronoun is second within the clause after the whole
branching phrase ḫannan di–šar “judged matter”, not after its first word
ḫannan “judged”.
As I have observed above, only in 2× out of 55× (3.6%) will the indefinite
pronoun follow a branching constituent in unambiguously immediately pre-
verbal position. In such cases, the difference between second position at the
left edge of the clause and second position within the clause (within vP) is
minimal.
The few cases where the indefinite pronoun is mysteriously first within its
phrase in immediately preverbal position also fit very nicely into the picture
drawn above if we assess them as the indefinite pronoun following a
constituent:
(14a) MH/NS (CTH 260.2) KUB 31.42 obv. ii 2–4

našma=kan ša é.gal–lì=ma idālu*-n* memi-an
or=loc of palace=but evil-acc.sg.c matter-acc.sg.c
kuiški kuedanikki anda ištamaš-zi
someone.nom.sg.c someone.loc.sg in hear-3sg.prs
“or (if) someone hears from someone any evil matter regarding the palace,…”

350 Sideltsev
(14b) NH/NS (CTH 277.6.A) KUB 31.5(+) obv. ii 7–8

mān=kan dlamma kuš
kuršaš kued[ani]kki arḫa talliyanza
if=loc protective.deity fleece.gen.sg some.loc.sg away summoned.nom.sg.c
“If the protective deity of the fleece is summoned from
somewhere,…”
(14c) NH/NS (CTH 255.2.A) KUB 26.1+ rev. iii 47–49

mān=wa=kan ša dutu-š=i ḫul–lu-n memi-an našma
if=quot=loc of Majesty=my evil-acc.sg.c matter-acc.sg.c or
gùb–tar kuedanikki [(anda) i]šdamaš-*teni*
malevolence.acc.sg.n someone.loc.sg in hear-2pl.prs
“If you hear of any evil matter regarding My Majesty or of malevolence in
someone,…”
(14d) NH/NS (CTH 383.1) KUB 21.19+ rev. iii 44’–45’

mān dingir meš-aš peran kuiški attaš=maš
if gods-loc.pl before some.nom.sg.c father.gen.sg.c=my.gen.sg.c
annaš=maš waštai-š ēš-zi
mother.gen.sg.c=my.gen.sg.c sin-nom.sg.c be-3sg.prs
“If before the gods there is some sin of my father and my mother,…”
Under this analysis, these four cases will also be ambiguous between second
and preverbal position and will be explained as indefinite pronouns at the left
edge of the clause which are first within their phrase. Their second position
requirement will then be satisfied by a constituent which is a phrase consisting
of several phonological words. In (14c) the phrase providing the first position
for the indefinite pronoun will be particularly long, i.e. ša dutu-š=i ḫul–lun
memian našma gùb–tar “evil matter regarding My Majesty or malevolence”,
but it is important that it is merely one syntactic constituent. In (14d) the sec-
ond position requirement for the indefinite pronoun will be provided by the
whole postpositional phrase dingir meš-aš peran “before the gods”, and not just
by its first phonological word dingir meš-aš “gods”. In (14a) and (14b) the phras-
es in the first position are shorter, respectively ša é.gal–lì idālu*n* “evil mat-
ter regarding the palace” and dlamma kuškuršaš “protective deity of the fleece”,
but even they consist of several words each.
In this light, one should probably abandon the position advocated in Sidel-
tsev 2015a and rather believe that indefinite pronouns can be second either
after a phonological word or after a branching constituent (= a phrase consist-
ing of several phonological words). In this respect, indefinite pronouns will be
similar to other second-position words like subordinators and relative pro-
nouns (see for the latter Huggard 2015) and different from prototypical enclit-
ics, which in Hittite invariably follow one phonological word.
This behavior—second either after a word or a branching phrase, i.e. a

syntactic unity consisting of several words—is actually common of clitics
crosslinguistically (Spencer and Luís 2012). Thus it is Hittite enclitics which
constitute a relatively uncommon case, and Hittite indefinite pronouns attest
a behavior more typical of enclitics crosslinguistically, a fact noticed by
Huggard (2015), who appears to believe that Hittite indefinite pronouns are
enclitics. But how do we explain the difference between Hittite clitics on the
one hand, and indefinite and relative pronouns as well as some subordinators
on the other? All of them attest the second position constraint, but only indefi-
nite and relative pronouns can follow a branching constituent.
The paradox can again be resolved only by resorting to modern syntactic
theory. In modern syntactic literature there are two alternative approaches to
similar phenomena attested crosslinguistically which were put forward by
Lowe (2014) and by Cardinaletti and Starke (1999). Both converge in the fact
that phonologically identical forms showing different distributions are under-
stood as two distinct morphosyntactic classes of corresponding words, ho-
mophonous only from the phonetic point of view. The first approach of Lowe
(2014) draws a distinction between independent forms and syntactic clitics.
The second draws a distinction between strong and weak forms (Cardinaletti
and Starke 1999). If applied to Hittite, the two models will provide a very simi-
lar result: enclitics as well as indefinite and relative pronouns and some sub-
ordinators which break up constituents to be second, as illustrated in (7), will
be syntactic clitics/weak forms,8 whereas indefinite pronouns, relative pro-
nouns, and some subordinators which are second after branching constitu-
ents (as in (11) and (13)) will be independent/strong forms. The fact that was
briefly mentioned at the beginning of the paper, that relative pronouns and
subordinators can be clause-first/initial, is also a feature of independent/
strong forms.
The only problem here is that indefinite pronouns share many other prop-
erties of relative pronouns and subordinators, namely that they can follow a
constituent, but they do not share this last property; see Sideltsev 2015a for
a discussion with the conclusion that there is just one first/initial indefinite
pronoun in the Hittite corpus. This discrepancy remains an issue for future
research.
8 Cf. Huggard (2015) whose position, although never very explicitly stated, I interpret as indefi-
nite pronouns being common phonological clitics. I will provide elsewhere the arguments
that indefinite pronouns are different from all prototypical clitics in Hittite. The main one is
that differently to unambiguous clitics, indefinite pronouns can start a new line on the
tablet.
352 Sideltsev
4 Summary
Summing up, we see what significant progress can be made in the study of Hit-
tite syntax using modern syntactic theory, as exemplified here by indefinite
pronouns. Naturally, the data can be collected and catalogized simply working
within pretty much the same paradigm that existed 100 years ago at the time
Hittite was deciphered. But to understand the distribution, one has to appeal
to advances in modern, particularly formal, syntax.
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of Europe, Berlin, New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 145–233.
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cus [StBoT 55], Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz.
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Angeles.
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verbal position in Ossetian. Presentation at the Third International Conference on
Iranian Linguistics, University of Paris iii: Sorbonne Nouvelle, September 11–13,
2009 (http://otipl.philol.msu.ru/staff/people/tatevosov/clause_internal_left_edge
_4.pdf).
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Linguistic Theory 23, 103–167.
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guage 6], Canberra: Association for the History of Language, 137–188.
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80–111.
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Chapter 17
Das unerwartete in der altassyrischen

Nebenüberlieferung hethitischer Wörter
Zsolt Simon
Abstract
Based on Hittite evidence, this paper argues that the of some Hittite words and
toponyms in Old Assyrian transmission does not represent an Old Assyrian anaptyctic
vowel as was suggested by J.G. Dercksen. Instead, it reflects a phonetic peculiarity of
local Hittite, an allophone of /a/ under specific phonological conditions. Due to the
verbs involved, the paper also includes a critical discussion of the phonetics of the
stem vowel of Hittite verbs with ā/a-ablaut. It is suggested that these vowels were nei-
ther empty nor schwa as hypothesised by A. Kloekhorst, but real ā/a-vowels.
Keywords
Hittite phonology – Hittite verbal morphology – Hittite and Luwian in Old Assyrian –
language contact
1 Das unerwartete 
Einige hethitische Wörter in altassyrischer Nebenüberlieferung zeigen ein

, während das Standardhethitische diese Wörter mit <a> schreibt (Zusam-
menstellung von Dercksen 2007: 33–39): ḫulugannum ~ heth. ḫaluga- ‘Bot-
schaft, Nachricht’ (und nicht ḫulukanni- ‘eine Wagenart’, vgl. Dercksen 2007:
34); išpuruzzinnum ~ heth. išparuzzi- ‘Balken’; luḫuzzinnum ‘eine Gefäßart’ ~
vgl. heth. lāḫu- / laḫu- ‘gießen’ (zur Stammform s. Kloekhorst 2008: 512).
Die Ursache dieser Erscheinung ist unklar. Dercksen 2007: 42 (dem sich
auch Kloekhorst 2008: 408 anschließt) erklärt die Fälle von ḫulugannum und
išpuruzzinnum als altassyrische anaptyktische Vokale: „Hittite /isprutsi-/ is
written išparuzzi- in Hittite, but išpuruzzi in OA“ (zu den altassyrischen anap-
tyktischen Vokalen im Allgemeinen s. Kouwenberg 2017: 49–50). Diese Erklä-
rung wird allerdings von Vernet und Vernet (demnächst) mit der Begründung

Das unerwartete in der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung 355
abgelehnt, dass heth. ḫaluga- immer mit <ḫa> geschrieben wurde. Diese Be-
obachtung schließt aber die Annahme Dercksens, die jeweiligen <a>-Vokale in
den hethitischen Formen seien „leer“, d.h. nicht sprachwirklich, noch nicht
aus.1
Um die Sprachwirklichkeit des a-Vokals dieser hethitischen Wörter zu eva-
luieren, kann man einerseits die Nebenüberlieferung (Umschriften oder
Lehnwörter aus diesen hethitischen Formen), andererseits innerhethitische
Informationen heranziehen. Die Nebenüberlieferung hilft in diesem Fall nicht
weiter: Zwar wurden Lehnwörter im Ägyptischen vorgeschlagen, diese sind
aber nicht nur unhaltbar, sondern wegen des unbekannten Vokalismus für die
aktuelle Fragestellung auch unbrauchbar.2 Da aber išparuzzi- und *laḫuzzi-
(→ luḫuzzinnum) transparente hethitische Bildungen sind, kann man diese
Frage theoretisch auch mit Hilfe der hethitischen Morphologie entscheiden.
2 Die hethitische ā/a-Ablautklasse
Sowohl išparuzzi-, als auch *laḫuzzi- (→ luḫuzzinnum) sind durch -uzzi-

g ebildete Nomina (zur Bildung vgl. kuruzzi- ‘ein Schneidewerkzeug’ ~ kuer-
‘schneiden’, vgl. Hoffner und Melchert 2008: 61) aus dem schwachen Stamm
eines zur ablautenden ā/a-Klasse gehörenden Verbs išpār-/išpar- ‘to spread
(out), to strew’ bzw. lāḫu-/laḫu- ‘to pour, to cast (objects from metal), (intr.) to
(over)flow’.3
1 Man könnte ein Argument für diese Annahme in altass. ḫiluganim in akt 1.14:30 finden, das
auf einen [ḫl°] Anlaut hinweisen würde (Kloekhorst 2008: 361): es handelt sich aber wahr-
scheinlich um einen Schreibfehler (vgl. Dercksen 2007: 34, sonst so auch Kloekhorst selbst,
2008: 276).
2 Breyer (2010: 361) schlägt vor, in ägypt. ḥ3-l-g-3 ‘froh, beschämt sein’ ein Lehnwort aus ḫaluga-
zu sehen („denn immerhin kann eine Botschaft sowohl niederschmetternd als auch erfreu-
lich sein“). Dies ist aber aus mehreren Gründen unwahrscheinlich: (1) das ägyptische Wort ist
semantisch weit entfernt; (2) die Gleichung ist auch phonologisch höchst problematisch, da
heth. anlautendes <ḫ> im Ägyptischen immer als <ḫ>, und nicht als <ḥ> umgeschrieben
wurde (vgl. Patri 2009: 94–96 mit Lit. und Simon 2010: 80, s. hier Anm. 9. mit Lit. zur Kritik
einer vorgeschlagenen Ausnahme; für weitere angenommene Ausnahmen vgl. Simon in Vor-
bereitung). Auch Breyer selbst räumt diese Probleme ein. Ähnlich ist der Fall von ägypt. ỉ-ś-
b-(w)-r ʻ(Teil einer) Peitscheʼ, das Breyer (2010, 354) aus išpār-/išpar- ‘to spread (out), to strew’
herleiten will, trotz der großen semantischen Entfernung (das Wort wurde auch aus dem
Semitischen hergeleitet, s. Takács apud Watson 2011: 164 Anm. 92; aber „questionable“ in
Hoch 1994: 34–35 Nr. 28 und unbekannt in Schneider 2004: 18).
3 Bei den Stamm- und Bedeutungsansätzen bzw. Verbalklassen folge ich Kloekhorst (2008),
der in diesen Fragen derzeit die genaueste Beschreibung bietet.

356 Simon
Kloekhorst 2008: 141–142 zufolge handelt es sich bei dieser Klasse („ḫi-verbs
with ā/a-ablaut“, iia2 in seiner Nummerierung) um Verben, die zwar ortho-
graphisch einen <ā/a>-Ablaut zeigen, aber phonologisch (aus etymologischen
Gründen) als /ā/ ~ /ø/ (aus idg. *ó ~ *Ø) zu interpretieren sind. D.h., dass der
Vokal <a> im schwachen Stamm (und dementsprechend auch in unseren Fäl-
len) rein graphisch war (so auch Vanséveren 2014: 113). Da aber eine etymolo-
gische Nullstufe die Möglichkeit eines synchron vorhandenen (z. B. durch
Anaptyxe entstandenen) [a] nicht ausschließt, muss man überprüfen, ob diese
Feststellung synchron haltbar ist. Kloekhorsts Interpretation ist auf einige Ver-
ben dieser Klasse ohne Probleme anwendbar (einschließlich išpār-/išpar- ‘to
spread (out), to strew’).4 Sie lässt sich auch auf weitere Verben anwenden, aus
denen geschlossen werden könnte, dass es im Hethitischen auch silbische Al-
lophone der Sonoranten und der Laryngalen gab.5 Es gibt allerdings auch drei
Typen von Verben, die diese phonetische Interpretation widerlegen (im Fol-
genden bezieht sich die phonetische Interpretation nur auf den zweiten,
schwachen Stamm):
1. Verben, bei denen anlautendes <a> als [ʔ] interpretiert wird: āk-/akk- ‘to
die’, ār-/ar- ‘to come’, ārr-/ar- ‘to wash’, ārk-/ark- ‘to cut off’, ārk-/ark- ‘to mount,
to copulate’. Bekanntlich erklärt Kloekhorst einige (aber nicht alle) anlautende
kurze <a>-Vokale als glottalen Verschlusslaut (2006: 80–81, 2008: 25). Wie je-
doch Weeden (2011, 61–68 mit Lit.) gezeigt hat, ist diese Interpretation im
System der Keilschrift nicht möglich, weshalb das anlautende <a> als [a] auf-
gefasst werden soll (für die Möglichkeiten zur Bezeichnung des anlautenden
glottalen Verschlusslauts in der Keilschrift [scriptio plena, <ḫ>, unbezeichnet]
vgl. die Diskussion bei Weeden 2011: 66–67 mit Lit.).
Allerdings hat Kloekhorst in seiner neuesten Erörterung seine Auffassung
geändert: da er annimmt, dass der Akzent dieser Verben auf dem Stamm liegt,
muss der Stamm einen Vokal haben. Er nimmt an, dass dieser Vokal ein Schwa
war, d.h. (z. B. im Falle von āk-/akk- ‘to die’) /ək-/, weil „the strong stem spelled
a-ak-k° phonologically represents /ʔák-/, with a short /a/, which makes it
4 ḫān-/ḫan- [ḫn-] ‘to draw water’; ḫāš-/ḫašš- [ḫS-] ‘to give birth’; ḫāt-/ḫat- [ḫd-] ‘to dry up’;
iškār-/iškar- [iskr-] ‘to stab’; išpār-/išpar- [ispr-] ‘to spread’; ištāp-/ištapp- [istp-] ‘to shut’; nāḫ-
/naḫḫ- [nH-] ‘to fear’; pāš-/paš- [ps-] ‘to swallow, to gulp down’; dākk-/dakk- [tk-] ‘to resem-
ble’; zāḫ-/zaḫḫ- [tsH-] ʻto beatʼ.
5 ḫatk-/ḫatk- [ḫdg-] ‘to shut, to close’; išpānt-/išpant- [ispn̥ d-] ‘to libate’; kānk-/kank- [kn̥ g-] ‘to
hang’; kalank-/kalank- [kl̥g-] ‘to soothe’; lāḫu-/laḫu- [l̥ḫu-] ‘to pour’; lāk-/lak- [l̥g-] ‘to make lie
down’; mālk-/malk- [ml̥g-] ‘to spin’; māld-/mald- [ml̥d-] ‘to recite’; mārk-/mark- [ml̥g-] ‘to di-
vide, separate’; paḫš-/paḫš- [pḫ̥s-] ‘to protect’; palāḫ-/palaḫḫ- [pl̥H-] ‘to call (?)’; pap-
parš-/papparš- [papr̥s-] ‘to sprinkle’. Einige, nur jungheth. belegte Verben zeigen das <ā>
wegen eines Lautwandels nicht mehr, s. dazu Kloekhorst 2008: 98, 141.

i mpossible that the weak stem ak-k° was /(ʔ)ak-/ with a short /a/ as well“ (2014:
339–341). Diese Behauptung ist natürlich nicht einwandfrei (nichts schließt
eine Interpretation /ak-/ aus), aus unserer Sicht ist allerdings das Wichtigste,
dass der Vokal in diesen Verben nicht „leer“ war (ārk-/ark- ‘to cut off’ und ārk-/
ark- ‘to mount, to copulate’ wurden in dieser Neubetrachtung nicht erörtert).
2. Das Verb šākk-/šakk- ‘to know’, das aus der Sicht der hethitischen Phono-
logie unregelmäßig wäre, weil der schwache Stamm [sk-] lauten würde,
obwohl die anlautenden sT-Gruppen im Hethitischen eine i-Epenthese auf-
zeigen (vgl. z. B. Melchert 1994: 31–32; Kloekhorst 2008: 61). Wenn also das <a>
leer gewesen wäre, hätte es [isk-] gelautet und wäre als *iš-k° geschrieben wor-
den. Dieses Problem wurde auch von Kloekhorst (2008: 697) erkannt (gerade
mit dieser Unregelmäßigkeit erklärt er die schnelle Verbreitung des analogi-
schen, sekundären šekk-Stammes), und als Analogie zitiert er den Fall von
šākan / šakn- ʻoil, fatʼ /ságn/ : /sgnás/ (dazu s. Kloekhorst 2008: 698–699). In
diesem Fall ist es wiederum nicht klar, warum das etymologisch zu erwartende
*iškn- durch ein phonologisch unregelmäßiges /sgn-/ (bzw. /səgn-/, vgl. unten)
und nicht z. B. ein phonologisch regelmäßiges /sagn-/ nach der offenbaren
Analogie des starken Stammes ersetzt wurde, was genau der belegten Form
entspricht (wie auch Kloekhorst 2008: 698–699 einräumt). Kloekhorst ist der
Meinung, dass der altheth. Gen. Sg. mit eindeutigem Akzent auf der zweiten
Silbe (šaknāš) notwendigerweise zu /sgnās/ führt. Allerdings erklärt sich die
synchrone Abwesenheit des Vokals in der ersten Silbe nicht aus diesem Beleg.
Denn, da <šakn-> nur mit /sagn-/ eine phonologisch regelmäßige Erklärung
erhält, die historisch gesehen sogar ökonomischer ist, bliebe die Interpretation
von šakk- als [sk-] ohne Basis und wäre als unregelmäßig einzustufen. In seiner
Neubetrachtung (Kloekhorst 2014: 248–250) interpretiert er die schriftliche
Wiedergabe anders, da er annimmt, dass die in Konsonantengruppen entstan-
denen Vokale Schwas sind, d.h., in diesem Fall, /sāḱ -/ : /sək-/ und /sāǵ ən/ : /
səgnás/ (Kloekhorst 2014: 681, 682). Diese Behauptung ist wiederum nicht
ohne Probleme, da sich nicht erklärt, weshalb dieser neue Vokal kein /a/ sein
kann. Für die aktuelle Untersuchung ist allerdings das Wichtigste, dass der Vo-
kal auch in diesem Verb nicht „leer“ war.6
3. Verben, die aus der Sicht der hethitischen Orthographie unregelmäßig
sind: Wäre das <a> in wāk-/wakk- ‘to bite’ und warš-/warš- ‘to harvest, to wipe’
6 Aus Gründen der Vollständigkeit sei hier der Vorschlag von Breyer (2010: 364) erwähnt, dass
das ägypt. Wort ś3-g-3 ʻden Weg freimachen, ausspähen, decken’ aus diesem heth. Verb stam-
men soll. Dies ist wegen des unbekannten Vokalismus nicht hilfreich und zudem semantisch
problematisch—auch Breyer selbst schlägt ein semantisch besser passendes Verb (šak
uwāye/a-zi ʻto see, to look’) als Alternative vor. Hoch stuft es als ägyptisches Wort mit fragli-
cher semitischer Etymologie ein (Hoch 1994: 269 Nr. 382).

358 Simon
leer, lauteten die Stämme [uk-] und [urs-], die dementsprechend in der Schrift
als <uk-k°>, bzw. <ur-š°> hätten erscheinen müssen.7 Dagegen sind die tradi-
tionellen Interpretationen ([wak-], [wars-]) orthographisch regelmäßig.
Diese drei Typen zeigen also eindeutig, dass das <a> in diesen Fällen sprach-
wirklich war. Dies wurde auch von Kloekhorst erkannt, der die jeweiligen Ver-
ben in seiner neuen Betrachtung schon mit einem Schwa interpretiert
(/ɨspər-/, /ləhw-/; Kloekhorst 2014: 663, 669).8
3 Weitere Belege
Die phonetische Interpretation der ā/a-Klasse, sei sie Kloekhorsts neue Auf-
fassung mit Schwa oder die hier befürwortete mit [a], geht also davon aus, dass
das <a> in išparuzzi- und *laḫuzzi-, und dementsprechend auch im Fall von
ḫaluga-, sprachwirklich war. D.h., dass es erklärungsbedürftig ist, weshalb an
dieser Stelle in der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung ein erscheint. Dazu
muss aber das gesamte bisher bekannt gewordene Korpus als Vergleich heran-
gezogen werden, da sich ein solcher Lautwandel nicht auf diese drei Wörter
beschränkt: er erscheint auch in der altassyrischen Überlieferung einiger loka-
len Toponyme.
Obwohl diese Toponyme „normalerweise“ mit <a> geschrieben werden, er-
scheinen sie in der altassyrischen Überlieferung immer mit : Luḫuzattiya ~
Laḫuwazantiya9 und Purušḫattum ~ Paršuḫanda (zu den Belegen s. del Monte
and Tischler 1978: 237, 323; del Monte 1992: 91, 128; Barjamovic 2011: 133 Anm.
424, 357 Anm. 1496), was ein bisher ungelöstes Problem darstellt (inzwischen
ist klar, dass die Erklärung von Bossert 1951: 320/329 [u wird a im Hierogly-
phenluwischen] nicht aufrechtzuerhalten ist).
Vor der Besprechung der Möglichkeiten muss noch zwei Fragen nachgegan-
gen werden: die inneren Beweise und die Nebenüberlieferung. Das erste
betrifft das Toponym Laḫuwazantiya, dessen erste Silbe einmal plene geschrie-
ben wird (la-a-ḫu-wa-az-za-an-ti-az, KBo 21.34 ii 11), was bei einem leeren
7 Wahrscheinlich gehört auch wāš-/*waš- ‘to sell’ hierher, dessen schwacher Stamm aber un-
belegt (vgl. Kloekhorst 2008: 141, 980–981) und dementsprechend nicht verwendbar ist.
8 Wie diese Klasse historisch zustande gekommen ist, ist eine andere Frage, die keine Auswir-
kungen auf unsere Fragestellung hat und daher hier nicht weiter erörtert wird.
9 Luḫuzattiya ist einmal auch mit <a> belegt: lá-ḫu-za-tí-a-i-e (nisbe, tmh 1, 66). Die Frage, ob
es sich um eine oder zwei Siedlungen handelt (s. zuletzt Hawkins and Weeden 2017: 283–286,
293–294), ist hier ohne Belang, weil sie in dem zweiten Falle laut der communis opinio hom-
onyme Siedlungen waren.—Hecker 1968: 19 zufolge kann der ursprüngliche Vokal nicht be-
stimmt werden, was aber offenbar nicht der Fall ist.

<a> nicht zu erwarten ist und auf die Sprachwirklichkeit dieses Vokals hinwei-
sen kann. Der Ursprung dieser Schreibung ist unklar: Laḫuwazantiya verfügt
nämlich über eine bekannte Nebenform, Lawazantiya, die mehrmals als
Lāwazantiya erscheint (für Belege s. del Monte and Tischler 1978: 237, del Mon-
te 1992: 91). Lāwazantiya kann aus Laḫuwazantiya mit dem im Luwischen be-
legten Schwund des Laryngals erklärt werden, der vor /w/ ausfallen konnte (s.
dazu Melchert 1994: 258; das einzige Problem ist, dass dem Laryngal in den
bisher belegten Fällen ein R und kein Vokal vorausging).10 Die Länge des Vokals
kann aber sowohl primär, als auch sekundär sein und wäre im letzteren Fall
mit Laryngalschwund durch Ersatzdehnung zustande gekommen (d.h. entwe-
der Laḫuwazantiya > Lāwazantiya oder Lāḫuwazantiya > Lāwazantiya) und in
diesem einzigen Fall hyperkorrekt auch auf Laḫuwazantiya übertragen wor-
den. Beide Möglichkeiten setzen allerdings einen sprachwirklichen Vokal
voraus.
Beide Toponyme sind angeblich auch aus der Nebenüberlieferung bekannt.
Einerseits dürfte der einzige nicht-hethitisch-altassyrische Beleg von Paršu
ḫanda der Stadtname Parzuta (Pa+ra/i-zu-tax(URBS)) in der hieroglyphen-
luwischen Inschrift von TOPADA (§§3, 7, 13, 23, 26) sein, dessen I dentifizierung
mit Paršuḫanda allerdings aus geographischer Sicht sehr problematisch (vgl.
Barjamovic 2011: 378 mit Lit. [„improbable“], für die neueste Analyse der Loka-
lisierung von Parzuta s. Weeden 2010: 55–58 und d’Alfonso 2015) und wegen des
ungeklärten Laryngalschwundes lautlich kaum vorstellbar ist.11 Andererseits
ist Laḫuwazantiya auch in den neuassyrischen Quellen belegt, allerdings als
Lusanda (Bagg 2007: 159–160), das die u-haltige Form fortsetzt (vgl. auch Lwsnd
im Ugaritischen, RS 18.040).12 Diese Formen sind daher aus der Sicht unserer
Fragestellung nicht aussagekräftig.
10 Barjamovic (2011: 140 Anm. 443) schlägt vor, chronologische Gründe hinter den verschie-
denen Formen zu suchen; dies kann aber nicht bestätigt werden, weil sich die bisherigen
Belege der sprachlich offenbar älteren Form Laḫuwazantiya auf den junghethischen Duk-
tus beschränken und demnach gleichzeitig mit der sprachlich sekundär entstandenen
Form sogar auch in einem und demselben Text (KBo 21.34+ IBoT 1.7 ii 11 bzw. i 2)
erscheinen.
11 Die Lesung des Zeichens <zu> in diesem Toponym ist allerdings nicht mehr problema-
tisch, vgl. Weeden 2010: 49.
12 Casabonne (2002: 188–190) glaubt, auch in Lōandos (aus der Umgebung von Sirkeli
Höyük) diese Stadt identifizieren zu können. Diese Identifizierung ist allerdings nicht
möglich (contra Hawkins and Weeden 2017: 285), weil dieses Toponym auf Lauwanda zu-
rückgeht und die Gleichsetzung von Laḫuwazantiya mit Sirkeli Höyük geographisch
nicht einwandfrei ist (Forlanini 2013: 78 Anm. 55 und vgl. oben Anm. 9). Noch dazu hat
Casabonne den Schwund des /s/ nicht erklärt.—Bagg (2007: 160) weist auch auf Savaş
(1998: 202, 212) hin, dem zufolge Laḫuwazantiya auch im Hieroglyphen-Luwischen belegt

360 Simon
Wenden wir uns jetzt der Interpretation zu, können wir beobachten, dass
dieses immer unter den gleichen Umständen erscheint: immer in der ers-
ten Silbe und zwar entweder zwischen l und ḫ (luḫuzzinnum, ḫulugannum)
oder zwischen p und r (išpuruzzinnum), was auch durch die genannten Topo-
nyme weitgehend bestätigt wird (Luḫuzattiya bzw. Purušḫattum). Dies weist
darauf hin, dass man hier mit einem regelmäßigen, konditionierten Wandel
des hethitischen /a/ zu tun hat, dessen phonetische Ursache vermutlich einer-
seits im Laryngal zu suchen ist, der in zahlreichen Sprachen den benachbarten
Vokal „umfärbt“, andererseits im labialen /p/.13
Die Frage ist danach: welcher Sprache ist dieser Lautwandel zuzuschrei-
ben? Es gibt nämlich drei theoretische Möglichkeiten: das (lokale) Hethiti-
sche, das (lokale) Altassyrische, und eine Vermittlersprache, z. B. das (lokale)
Luwische. Vernet und Vernet (demnächst) schlagen gerade wegen dieses Laut-
wandels vorsichtig vor, dass diese Wörter nicht hethitisch sind, sondern aus
einer anderen anatolischen Sprache, eventuell aus dem Luwischen stammen.
Diese Wörter sind allerdings perfekt hethitisch, sogar muss išpuruzzinum
wegen der im Luwischen unbekannten, aber im Hethitischen typischen
i-Prothese jedenfalls ursprünglich hethitisch sein. Dies schließt aber die Mög-
lichkeit der luwischen Vermittlung noch nicht aus. Man muss daher überprü-
fen, ob die theoretisch in Frage kommenden Sprachen einen ähnlichen oder
identischen Lautwechsel aufweisen.
Zwar kennt das Luwische einen solchen Lautwandel nicht, aber der luwische
Personenname Ḫudarla ist im Altassyrischen auch als Ḫudurla belegt (Laroche
sei. Der Ortsname lautet aber POCULUM.PES.*67 (KARAHÖYÜK §§1, 2, 9, 10, 12, 13, 16, 24)
bzw. POCULUM.CAPERE (MALATYA 9), dessen Lesung unbekannt ist (abgesehen vom
Stammauslaut -ta/i). Die von Bossert (1951: 320–321 / 329–330) vorgeschlagene Identifizie-
rung mit Laḫuwazantiya, die Savaş falsch (und ohne Hinweis auf Bossert) als Faktum dar-
stellt, ist nur eine unbewiesene Spekulation (vgl. Laroche 1960: 183; Hawkins 2000: 291).
Für die neueste Diskussion dieses Toponyms s. Van Quickelberghe 2013: 257–259.
13 H.C. Melchert hat mir in der Vortragsdiskussion vorgeschlagen, die Veränderung als die
Wirkung des /u/ oder /w/ der nachfolgenden Silbe zu beschreiben (etwa ein u-Umlaut).
Dies würde allerdings den Fall von Purušḫattum nicht erklären: wie die andere Form
Paršuḫanda zeigt, handelt es sich hier wahrscheinlich um eine Konsonantengruppe -ršḫ-,
weshalb kein /u/ in der Folgesilbe steht. Man könnte allerdings einwenden, dass das 
als leerer Vokal in Paršuḫanda unmotiviert ist, weshalb er sprachwirklich und wegen der
zitierten Schwankung ein Sprossvokal sein müsste. M.E. ist allerdings fraglich, ob ein se-
kundär entstandener Sprossvokal einen solchen Umlaut auslösen kann. Die andere Mög-
lichkeit, nach der Purušḫattum nur eine volksetymologisierende / assyrisierende Wieder-
gabe von Paršuḫanda darstellt (eine durch die Entlehnung verzerrte Form kann man
wegen der konsequenten Schreibung ausschließen) und die Folgesilbe daher tatsächlich
ein /u/ aufweist, ist zwar theoretisch möglich, aber momentan nicht beweisbar (die Ety-
mologie dieses Toponyms ist unbekannt).

1966: 73; Hecker 1968: 19, beide mit Belegen). Die o.g. Möglichkeiten für den
Ursprung dieses Lautwandels sind auch hier gültig: es handelt sich entweder
um das (lokale) Luwische, das Altassyrische, oder eine Vermittlersprache, die
diesmal nur das Hethitische sein kann, weil eine solche Erscheinung (bisher)
weder im Hattischen noch im Palaischen bekannt ist.
Was das lokale Altassyrische betrifft, gab es eine Hypothese, dass einige ech-
te altassyrische Wörter gelegentlich einen ähnlichen Wandel aufzeigen (Hecker
1968: 19 mit Belegen). Kouwenberg (2017: 93 mit Belegen) konnte allerdings
nachweisen, dass die Mehrheit dieser Wörter akkadische dialektale Unter-
schiede, fehlerhafte Lesungen sowie Schreibfehler darstellt. Übrig geblieben
sind nur nicht-assyrische Wörter, in denen diese Variation möglicherweise den
nachfolgenden -ll- zuzuschreiben ist.14
Man kann also die hier untersuchte Variation weder dem Altassyrischen
(contra Dercksen) noch einer luwischen Vermittlung zuschreiben. Demnach
kann und muss man diese allophonische Regel dem Hethitischen selbst
zuschreiben, genauer gesagt dem Kappadokisch-Hethitischen,15 das sich be-
kanntlich vom Standardhethitischen hinsichtlich einiger Merkmale unter-
scheidet (vgl. die Liste von Starke 1993: 24 Anm. 12).
Die Frage des luwischen Namens Ḫudurla muss allerdings offenbleiben.
Weder die altassyrischen noch die hethitischen phonologischen Umstände er-
klären seine Form, die auch für das Luwische unregelmäßig ist. Aufgrund meh-
rerer Belege ist seine Sprachwirklichkeit allerdings nicht anzuzweifeln, weshalb
zwei Lösungen zur Verfügung stehen: der Name ist mit Ḫudarla eigentlich
nicht identisch oder wir haben mit einem noch unklaren Wandel zu tun.16
4 Fazit
Die oben ausgeführte Untersuchung hat gezeigt, dass das /a/ zumindest im
Kappadokisch-Hethitischen zwischen l und ḫ, bzw. p und r ein Allophon (etwa
14 Dies kann ggf. mit išḫiulum unterstützt bzw. leicht modifiziert werden, falls es aus heth.
išḫiyal ‘Gürtel’ stammt, wie in Simon 2015 vorgeschlagen. Dieser Lautwandel könnte auch
die von Dercksen (2007: 29) in a-la-ra-nu ~ ú-lu-ra-nu ‘ein Gegenstand’ beobachtete
Schwankung erklären.
15 Um ein voreiliges Urteil über die Beziehung zwischen dem „Reichshethitischen“ und dem
Hethitischen der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung zu vermeiden, nenne ich letzteres
einfach Kappadokisch-Hethitisch („frühalthethitisch“ bei Starke 1993).
16 Rein theoretisch könnte man die hethitische Regel umformulieren (etwa zwischen l und
ḫ bzw. vor r) und dann die Vermittlung durch das Hethitische annehmen. Dagegen spricht
allerdings, dass die Annahme einer Vermittlung nicht nötig ist (weil sowohl hethitische
als auch luwische Sprecher mit denen des Altassyrischen in Kontakt standen) und die
hethitischen Wörter eine viel genauere Beschreibung erlauben.

362 Simon
[o]) hatte, das in der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung durch umge-

schrieben worden ist. Ob dieses Allophon nur für das Kappadokisch-
Hethitische charakteristisch war oder auch für das „Reichshethitische“ (dort
jedoch dann ohne graphische Wiedergabe), kann man derzeit nicht entschei-
den. Allerdings deutet eine nicht vorhandene graphische Wiedergabe in der
hethitischen Keilschrift gegenüber einer durchaus vorhandenen in der altassy-
rischen eher darauf hin, dass es sich um eine Eigenschaft des kappadokischen
Hethitischen handelt.17
Danksagung
Ich bedanke mich bei Anja Busse für die Korrektur meines Deutschen. Dieser
Aufsatz ist im Rahmen des durch die dfg geförderten Forschungsprojekts „Di-
gitales philologisch-etymologisches Wörterbuch der altanatolischen Kleinkor-
pussprachen“ zustande gekommen.
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derasiens, Nordafrikas und der Ägäis. Akten des Basler Kolloquiums zum ägyp-
tisch-nichtsemitischen Sprachkontakt. Basel, 9.–11. Juli 2003 [AOAT 310], Münster:
Ugarit, 11–31.
Simon, Zs. (2010) Hethitisch-luwische Fremdwörter im Ägyptischen? GM 227, 77–92.
Simon, Zs. (2015) Altassyrisch išhiulum: kein Vertrag, sondern ein Gürtel? N.A.B.U.
2015/1, 12–13 (Nr. 10).
Simon, Zs. (in Vorbereitung) Nachträge zur Problematik „Hethitisch-luwische Fremd-
wörter im Ägyptischen“.
Starke, F. (1993) Zur Herkunft von akkad. ta/urgumannu(m) „Dolmetscher“, WdO 24,
20–38.
Van Quickelberghe, É. (2013) Réflexions autour de la stèle de Karahöyük (Elbistan), Le
Muséon 126, 253–263.
Vanséveren, S. (2014) Nisili. Manuel de langue Hittite ii. Le système verbal hittite, Leuven,
Paris, Walpole/MA: Peeters.
Vernet, E. and Vernet, M. (demnächst) On the Hittite and Luwian origin of some com-
mon nouns in Cappadocian Old Assyrian texts: a new examination, in: A. Süel (ed.),
Acts of the 9th International Congress of Hittitology.
Watson, W.G.E. (2011) Semitic and non-Semitic terms for horse-trappings in Ugaritic,
AuOr 29, 155–176.
Weeden, M. (2010) Tuwati and Wasusarma: Imitating the behaviour of Assyria. Iraq 72,
39–61 (Fs. J.D. Hawkins).
Weeden, M. (2011) Spelling, phonology and etymology in Hittite historical linguistics,
BSOAS 74, 59–76.

Chapter 18
The Personal Deictic Function of Hittite kāša,

kāšma and kāšat(t)a: Further Evidence from the
Texts
Charles W. Steitler
Abstract
Hittite kāša (as well as related kāšat(t)a and kāšma) has undergone a number of
different interpretive treatments. The traditional translation “behold” was abandoned
by many scholars in favor of an interpretation as an adverb communicating temporal
immediacy of verbal action. However, a recent proposal suggested that kāša should
not be interpreted temporally, but rather as an indicator of 1st person deixis. This pa-
per will provide additional support for an understanding of kāša as a term of 1st person
deixis. An examination of the use of kāša in temporal subordinate clauses and with
temporal modifiers demonstrates that kāša itself should not be understood temporal-
ly. In addition to the category of personal deixis, discourse deixis and self-referential
deixis will also be explored as possible functions of kāša.
Keywords
Hittite language – deixis – personal deixis – discourse deixis
Introduction1
The precise meaning and correct translation of the Hittite particles or adverbs
kāša, kāšat(t)a and kāšma have long been debated, but especially so in recent
years. Interpretive differences can be traced back already to the earliest days of
1 The research for this article was carried out during the author’s employment as a research
associate of the Hethitisches Wörterbuch (Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München), fund-
ed by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft. Transcriptions and transliterations of Hittite
texts follow the conventions of the Hethitisches Wörterbuch (2nd ed.); abbreviations are
those of the Chicago Hittite Dictionary. The author thanks H.C. Melchert and J. Klinger for
their comments on earlier versions of this paper.

366 Steitler
Hittitology. Bedřich Hrozný himself correctly identified an etymological con-

nection of kāša with the demonstrative pronoun kā-, and initially proposed to
translate kāša as “da (hier); als, nachdem, wenn.” Hrozný (1917: 141 n. 13) also
considered the possibility that kāša had become an “überleitend[e] Partikel.”
The translation as an interjection “behold” or German “siehe,” in contrast, can
be traced back to Sommer (1921: 86 n. 2) and was based on its correspondence
with Akkadian anumma. Sommer and Falkenstein (1938: 31) later interpreted
kāša “mit deutlich temporaler Richtung” and mentioned its “verbalen Charak-
ter.” Sommer’s primary reason, however, for translating kāša as “siehe” rather
than “jetzt” (“now”) was to distinguish it from the adverb kinun(a) (ibid.).
These were the forerunners to the interpretation of kāša proposed by Hoff-
ner (1968); see also more recently Hoffner and Melchert (2002: 387–388;
2008: 323–324). Like Sommer, Hoffner suggested that kāša (and its related
forms) should be connected with the temporal aspect of the verb: combined
with a preterite verb, it carries the meaning “I have just (done something),”
with a present verb, “I am now/I am presently (doing something)/I am about
to (do something).”
In a paper delivered in 2007, Rieken proposed a significantly different inter-
pretation of kāša.2 Her study was based – among other things – on the aspect
of personal deixis of the Hittite demonstrative pronouns, as convincingly pro-
posed by Goedegebuure (2002/2003, see now also id. 2014).3 Instead of lending
an aspect of immediacy to the verbal tenses, as did previous interpretations of
kāša, Rieken argued for the 1st person deictic meaning of kāša. Furthermore,
Rieken understood the closely related terms kāšma and kāšat(t)a as expres-
sions of 2nd person deixis that refer to the sphere of the hearer or reader of the
text. Her observations have been positively appraised by Marazzi (2011 [2015])4;
Archi and Venturi (2012: 37); and Miller (2013: 75, 331 n. 17).
2 Published as Rieken 2009.

3 Although Goedegebuure herself excluded kāša etc. from her study of deixis in Hittite, she
does refer to Rieken’s “treatment of these adverbs as deictic pragmatic markers relating prop-
ositions to the speech participants” (Goedegebuure 2014: 5).
4 While Marazzi accepts Rieken’s spatial (or personal deictic) interpretation as the primary
meaning of kāša etc., he maintains that its secondary meaning is still a temporal one, for ex-
ample in KBo 3.27 obv. 13–14 or in KUB 1.16+ ii 37, where he understands the locational and
temporal functions of kāša to be inseparable (Marazzi 2011 [2015]: 64). According to Marazzi
(2011 [2015]: 67), kāša can signify a change from one temporal dimension to another, and in
the royal decrees, kāša represents intervention of the king, working to restore the positive
circumstances of the distant past in the future; the negative present is frequently marked
with kāša. Marazzi (2011 [2015]: 62–63) thus compares kāša with Latin nunc. However, nunc
is etymologically related with kinun; on this, see Hrozný (1917: 37 n. 2); Friedrich (HW: 110);
Tischler (HEG 1: 580); Starke (1990: 366); Puhvel (HED 4: 185); Kloekhorst (2008: 478–479).

Personal Deictic Function of Hittite kāša, kāšma & kāšat(t)a 367
At least as far as kāša is concerned, the present author largely concurs with
Rieken’s interpretation. This paper will focus on four groups of attestations of
kāša. The first two groups provide further evidence for the personal deictic use
of kāša as argued by Rieken, and are moreover difficult to reconcile with the
aspect of temporal immediacy that Hoffner proposed for kāša. In the third and
fourth groups of texts, it will be considered whether kāša might have func-
tioned in other deictic categories as well. The latter portion of the paper relies
largely on the recently published study of the Hittite deictic pronouns by
Goedegebuure (2014).
1 kāša in Temporal Subordinate Clauses
There are very few examples of kāša in temporal subordinate clauses; these are
listed below. In each of them, though, Hoffner’s interpretation of kāša is at best
very unlikely, if not impossible.
1.1 With kuitman

In text (1), kāša occurs in a subordinate clause with kuitman in the context of a
letter:
(1) HKM 21 obv. 9–13 (MS)

apēdani (10) [P]A-NI LÚKÚR mekki (11) paḫḫaššanuwanza ēš (12) [k]āša=
za ku[i]tman (13) [x] x arḫa ariyami
(From the king to Pulli in Tapikka:) “(Concerning what you [Pulli] wrote
to me about the enemy,) be very cautious [to]wards that enemy, un[t]il I
inquire here by means of an oracle.”5
Although Hoffner translated this text as “while I am about to make inquiries,”

according to Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 416), when kuitman follows the main
clause, it should be translated as “until.” A translation such as “until I am about
to make / am presently making an oracle inquiry” would make little sense. In-
stead, it seems natural to understand this text to mean that Pulli should exer-
cise caution until the king – at the location from which the letter was being
written – is able to perform an oracular investigation.
5 Hoffner (2009: 133): “while I am about to make oracular inquiries”; Goedegebuure (2014: 267):
“until I, on my part (kāša), have finished the oracle inquiry.”

368 Steitler
1.2 With maḫḫan

Texts (2) and (3) are the only two examples known to me of kāša in a subordi-
nate clause together with maḫḫan. In both cases, the maḫḫan clause describes
an action preceding the event of the main clause. Text (2) is especially interest-
ing, since kāša occurs there in the main clause as well; thus, rather than refer-
ring to temporal immediacy, kāša could instead be taken to mean that the
birds were being observed at the writer’s location:
(2) HKM 49 rev. 18–21 (MS)

kāš[a] mēna[š MUŠEN ḪI.A] (19) maḫḫ[a]n auē[r…] (20) [n]=aš [k]ā[š]a
A-NA ⸢DUTU ŠI⸣ (21) BE-LÍ-NI ḫa[t]rāuen
(Letter to the king:) “Her[e] as soon as th[ey] had observed (the behavior
of) the migrat[ory birds?…], we wrote about them (the birds) here to his
majesty, our lord.” (End of letter.)6
In text (3), the iterative verb implies that there were ongoing failed attempts to
besiege a city, so that temporal immediacy also does not seem to be communi-
cated by kāša. Instead, kāša could be explained logically as referring to the
location, or perhaps emphasizing the role of the speaker, thus “we for our
part.”7
(3) KBo 18.54 rev. 9–15 (MS)

EN-YA=ya=kan kuit mDu⸢tt⸣[un…] (10) epurawanzi parā n⸢a⸣[itta] (11)
BÀD=ma pippawanzi (12) Ú-UL tarnaš nu kāša (13) maḫḫan epurešgauen
(14) nu=nnaš=kan epurawanzi (15) Ú-UL ḫapdat
“As for the fact that you, my lord, deployed Dutt[u…] to besiege (the city?),
but you/one did not let the wall be torn down: so here when we keep be-
sieging (the city), the siege is not successful for us.”8
6 Hoffner (2009: 185): “As soon as they observed…we have herewith reported…” [no translation
of kāša].
7 I would like to thank Elifta Fritzsche (personal communication) for suggesting the nomen-
clature of “subject marking” for this function of kāša. This seems to be what Goedegebuure
intended with her translation “on my part” (see above, n. 5). Similarly, Marazzi (2011 [2015]:
63–64), while translating kāša as “ecco” (in KBo 22.1 rev. 18–19, 24), nevertheless describes its
function there as “ritorno al presente,” cf. his translation, “ecco qui cosa accade presso di voi.”
8 Thus Neu (1968: 44–45); a different interpretation is proposed by Hagenbuchner (1989: 59)
(“sobald wir eine Rampe bauen, gelingt uns das Rampenbauen nicht”), and HW2 ii E 89a
(“‘Erdmassen bewegen’…für den Bau einer Rampe”); cf. Hoffner (2009: 343): “Every time we
tried to storm (the town), we did not succeed in storming (it)” [no translation of kāša].

2 kāša with Temporal Adverbial Modifiers
2.1 With karū

Rieken (2009: 270, text 15) gives one example in which kāša occurs with karū
together in the same sentence. Texts (4)–(9) are further examples of this com-
bination. Since karū expresses the notion of action already completed, or a
state of being already reached in the past, this seems to rule out the possibility
of temporal immediacy as the meaning of kāša. In fact, if kāša did indeed com-
municate temporal immediacy, then one should instead expect an opposition
rather than a nexus between kāša and karū in text (4), such as, “What you just
said to me (kāša)…the priest (and) Ḫulla have already (karū) written to me.”
However, this is not the case.
(4) KBo 18.69 rev. 6′–8′ (MS)

[z]ik=wa=mu KA×U-az kuit mematti kāša[=wa=mu] (7′) [ir]ḫaš uttar
⸢LÚ⸣SANGA=ya karū ḫatrāit (8′) [nu=wa]r=at=mu kāša m⸢Ḫu⸣[ll]ašš=a
ḫatrāi[t]
“That which you tell me verbally, the priest has also already written [to
me] here about the matter of the [bor]der. Also Ḫu[ll]a has writt[en] it to
me here.”9
In the other texts as well, it makes good sense to understand kāša to refer to the
location of events or circumstances described within the sphere of the author
of the respective letters:
(5) HHCTO 1 obv. 6–7 (MS)

kāša ŠA KIN=ya kuit meḫur karū ⸢artari?⸣ nu ŠA KIN-x […] (7) […ku?w]at
Ú-UL pīeši
“Concerning the fact that here the time of labor is already at hand, […wh]y
don’t you send the labor[ers?]?”10
(6) HKM 19 obv. 5–8 (MS)

kāša=wa=ššan (6) ḫalkiḪI.A-aš karū aranteš (7) I-NA URU
Kaška=[m]a=wa
ḫalkiḪI.A-uš (8) BURU 5ḪI.A ēzzašta
9 Text edition by Hagenbuchner (1989: 113–114).

10 Hoffner (2009: 259): “Concerning the fact that the time for the work/task has now already
come?.”

370 Steitler
(Citation of the addressee’s previous letter:) “Here the grain is already

ripe for harvest (literally: ‘has arrived’). But in the Kaška (region), a swarm
of locusts ate the grain.”11 (Thus the Kaškaeans are taking the crops from
Kašepura.)
(7) HKM 66 obv. 5–7 (MS)

kāša=wa=mu zak[ki] šeliuš pad[danteš?] (6) karū SIG 5-a[n]teš nu=wa=
kan [l]ē (7) kuwatqa laḫlaḫḫiyaš[i]
“Here my doorbolts (and) d[ug?] grain piles? (i.e. silos?) are already in or-
der. So do not worry at all.”12
(8) TA.08.E.1 obv. 24–27 (NS)

kinun=ma kāša karū x [x x x] (25) kī ṬUP-PA kuedani UD-ti ⸢parā⸣ (26)
neḫḫun ammuk=ma I-NA UD.3.⸢kam⸣ (27) I-NA URUĪzziya šešmi
“But now, here on which day I already [x x x] dispatched this tablet, in
three days (from this point in time) I myself will sleep in Izziya.”13
(9) KUB 42.94 + HHT 80 rev. 10–11 (NS)

kāša=wa apē⸢d⸣aš kat⸢tan⸣ [k(arū kūš)] (11) tarpalliš ara[nt]ari
“Here with those (evil sins in the place of the king) these substitutes are
[al]ready sta[nd]ing. (The gods shall take note of the substitutes instead
of the king.)”14
In connection with text (9), where kāša occurs with a verb describing a state of
being (ar- “to stand”), a similar situation can also be noted when kāša is con-
nected with the verb ki- “to lie” as in the following portion of the Telipinu Myth,
text (10):
(10) KUB 17.10 ii 12–14 (MS/OH?)

kāša galaktar kitta [ištanza=šiš] (13) galankanza ēštu kāša parḫ[uenaš
kitta] (14) karāz=šan talliyē[ddu]
11 Hoffner (2009: 130): “the crops are already ripe” [no translation of kāša].
12 Hoffner (2009: 220): “Already at this moment….”
13 Archi and Venturi (2012: 34–36): “Well, now already ...[…] the day in which I have dis-
patched this tablet, in three days (from it) I will sleep in Izziya.” The translators comment
specifically on the use of kāša and kāšma in this letter, generally consenting to Rieken’s
approach to these adverbs, but noting that in some cases the translation “lo” is more ap-
propriate (Archi and Venturi 2012: 37); they also point out some instances where kāšma
does not seem to emphasize the addressee (see also below under §5), in contrast to Riek-
en’s interpretation.
14 Restored according to duplicate IBoT 3.147+:5; see Taracha (2000: 50–51, 70).

“Here lies galaktar, may [his soul] become tranquil; here [lies] parḫ[uena],
[may] his insides [be] calmed?.”15
In text (11), a mugawar for the Storm-god, kāša occurs in a nominal sentence.
In this case especially, one can hardly avoid the translation “here is…
(something).”
(11) KUB 33.68 ii 6 (OH/MS)

kāša GIŠPÈŠ
“Here is a fig. (Do not be burdened anymore.)”16
2.2 With kinun(a)

The combination of kāša with kinun(a) is very common; if both referred to
immediacy, then one of the terms would be redundant. In text (12), taken from
the ritual of Maštigga, one can understand kāša as an indicator of 1st person
deixis, while kinun(a) is the temporal adverb contrasting with apedani šiwatti:
(12) KBo 39.8 i 34–37 (MS)

apedani=wa=šmaš=kan (35) UD-ti kuit ḫaššikkidumat kinun=a=wa=
šmaš=kan (36) kā[š]a apedaš UD-aš EME ḪI.A DĀndāliyaš (37) ⸢IŠ-TU⸣
gír karašta
(The old woman cuts up red wool over the patients and speaks,) “That,
about which you litigated(?) with each other on that day, now, however,
for you he[r]e Andaliya has cut off the tongues of that day with a knife.”
(Then she throws the wool in the hearth.)17
2.3 Combination of kāša…kinuna kāša

Further evidence against a temporal meaning for kāša is the consecutive oc-
currence of kāša and kinuna kāša, as in texts (13) to (16). In all four of these
examples, the first clause – with kāša alone – can be understood as expressing
the reason for which the rite or action of the kinun(a) kāša clause was carried
out. Both clauses can be connected with the sphere of the speaker, but the
second should be considered the more recent action or circumstance, hence
the presence of kinuna.
15 Hoffner (1998: 16): “Here lies galaktar…here [lies] parḫuenas-fruit.”

16 See Rieken et al. (2009: (TX 2009-08-26, TRde 09-08-17)): “Hier (ist) eine Feige.”
17 Miller (2004: 65–66): “That which you quarrelled with each other about on that day, now
Andaliya has hereby severed for you the tongues of those days with a knife.”

372 Steitler
(13) KUB 9.31 iii 48–52 (NS)

kāša=wa=ššan (49) kuit kēl ŠA KARAŠ idālu A-NA A-MI-LU-UT-TI
(50) GU 4ḪI.A UDU ḪI.A ANŠE.KUR.RA MEŠ ANŠE.GÌR.NUN.NA Ù A-NA
ANŠE ḪI.A (51) anda ēšta kinun=war=at=kan kāša IŠ-T[U KARAŠ] (52) kūš
UDU.ŠIR ḪI.A MUNUSTUM=ya arḫa uter
(Rams, a woman and other items are brought away into enemy territory
while someone recites.) “Because here the evil of this camp was within
humanity, cattle, sheep, horses, mules and donkeys, now here they have
brought these rams and the woman aw[ay from the camp].”18
(14) KBo 39.8 ii 18–20 (MH/NS)

ḫaššikketten kuedani [(UD-ti nu=wa kāša)] (19) apel UD-aš EME ḪI.A-eš
kinuna=war=aš k[(āša addāš)] (20) DUTU-uš tarmāit
(The old woman forms tongues from clay, affixes them to the ground and
speaks:) “On which day you condemned? each other, here are the tongues
of that day. Now here the father, the Sun-god, has affixed them.”19
The parallel text is almost identical, except for the fact that it replaces
kinuna=war=aš with šumaš. It is given here in transcription for the sake of
clarity.
KBo 2.3 i 31–33 (MH/NS)

[ḫ]aššikke[tt]e[n ku]⸢e⸣dani (32) UD-ti nu=wa ⸢kāša⸣ [(apel UD).K]AM-aš
EME ḪI.A ⸢šumāš⸣ (33) kāša ⸢add⸣āš DUTU-u[(š tarmāi)]t20
(15) KBo 15.33+ iii 20–22 (MS)

kāša=wa=za (21) kī ki=ya kēdani uddanī šer AK-RU-UB kinuna=war=a[t]
(22) kāša A-NA DINGIRLIM udaḫḫun nu=war=at=za DINGIRLIM
menaḫḫa[nda]
(Spoken to the Storm-god of Kuliwišna:) “Here I have pledged this and
that on account of this matter; now here I have brought it to the deity,
and it is before the deity.”21
18 Ritual of Ašḫella, translated by Chrzanowska (2015: (TX 19.06.2015, TRde 19.06.15)): “Siehe,
das Übel dieses Heerlagers, das für Menschen, Rinder, Schafe, Pferde, Maultiere und für
Esel darin war, haben jetzt diese Widder und die Frau aus dem Feldlager weggebracht.”
19 Ritual of Maštigga, restored according to parallel KBo 2.3 i 31–33; see Miller (2004: 72): “the
tongues of that day (are) right here.”
20 Restored according to KBo 39.8 ii 18–20.
21 Ritual for the Storm-god of Kuliwišna, edited by Glocker (1997: 70–71), who also restores
[ūški] “look!” at the end of iii 22.

(16) KUB 7.8 ii 14–16 (MS)

nu=ddu=za kāša kāš antuwaḫḫaš (15) Ú-UL šekta ki!nuna=tta kāša (16)
EGIR-pa šaḫta
(Ritualist speaks to the deity:) “Here this person (the ritual patient) did
not know you. Now here he has sought after you (for help).”22
The first and second groups of texts (texts (1)–(3) and (4)–(16) respectively)
allow for the following observations. kāša can appear in clauses expressing
events that can be understood to have occurred prior to an event of a closely
connected main clause or prior to the general context. In other cases, kāša can
also modify the clause expressing the subsequent event, so that kāša does not
seem to be dictated by antecedence or subsequence and can be taken more
naturally to refer to location, specifically in each of these cases to the sphere of
the speaker/writer – in other words, 1st person deixis.
3 kāša Functioning as Discourse Deixis
The examples we have looked at so far can all be categorized as what Goedege-
buure (2014: 279–298) calls text-external or true situational deixis. We will pres-
ently suggest that the functions of kāša also included text-internal or discourse
deixis. In her monograph on the Hittite demonstratives, Goedegebuure defines
discourse deictic expressions as those which:
…refer to propositions as expressed by clauses, sentences, paragraphs, or

an entire story. They do not refer to a proposition already referred to by a
prior noun phrase, which is the domain of anaphoric expressions, but
introduce those propositions as referents into the universe of discourse.
Thus, they almost always shift the attention to the referent of the dis-
course deictic expression.
goedegebuure 2014: 72
Goedegebuure (2014: 299–312) focuses on the derivatives of kā- as expressions

of discourse deixis, for example kiššan, kī, kī uttar, and kā- memiya(n)-. She
gives the following text as an example:
(17) KUB 14.1+ obv. 13–14 (MS)

nu=t[ta] linkiya (14) [ka]ttan kē uddār daiš
22 Ritual of Paškuwatti, edited by Hoffner (1987: 273–274, 278): “(Till now) this man has not
known you. But just now he has sought you.”

374 Steitler
“He (my father) placed the following words for you under oath.” (Quota-
tion of content of the oath follows.)23
In this text, kē uddār (“these words”) introduces the content of the oath to
which the addressees had bound themselves. We find the same formula in a
very similar context in the treaty of Šuppiluliuma with Ḫukkana. There, how-
ever, kē uddār also occurs with kāša, and is followed by yet another kāša in the
statement relating to the assembly of the gods:
(18) KBo 5.3+ i 38–40 (NS)

nu=tta kāša kē uddār ŠAPA[L] NĪŠ DINGIRLIM teḫḫun (39) nu kāša
kēdani uddanī LIM DINGIR MEŠ (40) tuliya ḫalziuen
“Here, I have placed these words under oath for you; and here in this mat-
ter we have summoned the thousand gods to assembly.”24
Goedegebuure (2014: 303) notes that deictic kā- can occur with verbs of com-
munication. Similarly, kāša can be found frequently in epistolary contexts in
sentences such as “kāša (so-and-so) wrote to me,” which very often precedes
quotations from previously sent letters, as is the case in texts (19) and (20), or
preceding quotations of speech (here with mema-), as in the second half of
text (20) and in text (21).
(19) HKM 25 obv. 4–5, 22–25 (MS)

kāša=mu mPišeniš (5) URUKašepūraz ḫatrā[it]… (22) kāšma=šmaš tuppi
mPiše[ni]yaš (23) uppaḫḫun=pat (24) nu=šmaš=at=kan (25) [p]eran
ḫalzi[andu]
“Here Piseni wrote to me from Kašepura… (followed by citation of Pišeni’s
letter, which was sent together with this tablet to Tatta and Ḫulla, thus:) I
have likewise sent to you there the tablet of Piše[ni]. They shall read it
aloud before you.”25
23 Indictment of Madduwatta, translation according to Goedegebuure (2014: 304); cf. Beck-

man (1999: 154): “he placed these matters under oath for you.”
24 Ḫukkana treaty, translated by Beckman (1999: 28): “I have now placed these words under
oath for you, and we have now summoned the Thousand Gods to assembly in this
matter.”
25 Hoffner (2009: 140–141): “Pišeni has just written me…. I have sent you herewith the tablet
of Pišeni.”

(20) HKM 60 obv. 4–14 (MS)

kāša=šmaš ŠA É mTarḫunmiya (5) kuit ŠA DI ḪI.A uttar (6) IŠ-T[U]
GIŠ.ḪUR ḫatrānun (7) nu=ššan É mTarḫunmiya (8) IGI ḪI.A=wa ēpten
namma=šši (9) DI ḪI.A ḫanništen n=an=kan ašnutten (§:10) kāša=mu
mTarḫunmiyaš (11) kiššann=a memišta (12) mUDU-šiwališ=wa=mu (13)
mYarappiyašš=a (14) dammešḫan ḫarkanzi
“Here, I have written it to you with a wooden tablet concerning the legal
matter of the house of Tarḫunmiya: ‘Pay attention to the house of
Tarḫunmiya! Furthermore, decide his case, and put (it) in order (for)
him.’ (§) Here Tarḫunmiya also spoke to me as follows: ‘Lušiwali and
Yarappiya have caused damage to me.’”26
(21) HKM 73 obv. 3–4 (MS)

kāša=mu mTarwaškiš (4) kiššan memišta
“Tarwaški said to me here as follows: (quotation).”27
In text (22), however, kāša does not precede a quotation, but instead marks a
switch to a new topic in the letter. The preceding lines of text (not given here)
refer to the conducting of blind men to the city of Šapinuwa, while kāša intro-
duces the matter of Ašduwarrae, which found no previous mention in the
letter.
(22) HKM 58:15–18 (MS)

k[āš]a ŠA mAšduwarrae uttar (16) [D]U[TU Š]I [p]arā=ya ḫatreškimi
(17) [n]=at=mu EGIR-pa Ú-UL kuitki (18) [ḫatr]āš[i]
“H[er]e (about) the matter of Ašduwarrae, I keep writing further to my
Majesty; but you do not write back to me at all!”28
If kāšma were also used as an expression of discourse deixis, this might explain
some instances where it is otherwise difficult to identify a rationale behind the
distribution of kāša and kāšma. Goedegebuure (2014: 333) notes that when 1st
person deictic demonstrative kā- is used in discourse deixis, “the ties with the
domain of the speaker were loosened.” Thus, one would not expect to find a
26 Hoffner (2009: 211): “Concerning the legal proceedings…which I have recently written to
(the two of) you…Tarḫunmiya has just told me the following…”
27 Hoffner (2009: 233): “Tarwaški has just told me the following.”
28 Hoffner (2009: 208): “I keep writing (to) His Majesty on the subject of Ašduwarrae.”

376 Steitler
strict distinction between 1st and 2nd person deixis in those cases where kāša
and kāšma function as markers of discourse deixis.29
4 kāša as Self-Referential Deixis
Another deictic use of kāša can be described as self-reference and occurs

mostly in treaties and instructions, but also in a few letters. Christiansen (2012)
repeatedly emphasizes that the oath formulas cannot simply be reduced to
verbal expressions; she argues instead that oaths are inextricably linked with
the actual tablets on which the instructions or treaties were recorded. These
tablets contained at once the oath and also the conditions to which the oath-
taking parties had bound themselves. It was the deposition of the actual tablet
in the temple of the deity which assured that the gods would avenge the trans-
gression of the oath upon the guilty party (see Christiansen 2012: 137–138, 43–
44, 527–528).
Sometimes, kāša occurs in oath formulas at the end of an instruction or a
treaty, where there is no subsequent content to which kāša could be directing
the reader’s attention, as would be the case with discourse deictic expres-
sions.30 Text (23) is excerpted from the Ḫukkana treaty, which concludes only
a few lines later after the divine curse is described in detail. Here, and in some
other instances as well, kāša could be understood as self-referential deixis (see
Goedegebuure 2014: 295–296, 520–521).
(23) KBo 5.3+ iv 34–36 (NS)

nu=šmaš kāša kē x x [x x u]ddār ŠA-PAL NI-IŠ DINGIRLIM (35) teḫḫun
n=at mān L[Ú.MEŠḪ]ayaša mMariyašš=a (36) Ú-UL paḫḫašteni
“Here I have placed these x x [x x w]ords under oath for you; if you m[en
of Ḫ]ayaša and Mariya (PN) do not keep them,” (then may the oath gods
curse you).31
Goedegebuure gives the phrase kī ṬUPPI as a primary example of self-

reference. This may be compared to explicit references to the production of a
29 There are nevertheless instances in which the distinction between 1st person kāša and
2nd person kāšma can be demonstrated, as in text (19) above. It will be argued below,
however, that this is not the only possible function of kāšma.
30 According to Goedegebuure (2014: 72), “discourse deictic expressions always refer to the
immediately adjacent segment.”
31 Beckman (1999: 33): “these words which I have now placed under oath for you.”

tablet, which frequently occur in connection with the oath as, for example, in
the Instructions for Dignitaries (text (24)):
(24) KUB 26.24+ i 22–26 (MH/NS)

ueš=a=za kāša UGULA LI-IM LÚ[D]UGUD ŠA ÉRINM[EŠ UR(UKišš)iya]
(23) ḫūmanza QA-DU DAMMEŠ-NI DUMUMEŠ-NI katta DUMU.DU
MUM[(EŠ-NI)] (24) QA-DU KUR-NI linkiyaš ṬUP-PU ZABAR ḫa[(nti)] (25)
[iy]auen n=at I-NA URUḪatti A-NA PA-NI d[(U URUḪatti) (26) [NI-IŠ]-KU-UN
“But herewith, we, the overseer of a thousand, the [d]ignitary of all the
troop[s] of Kišš[iya], together with our wives, our sons, (and) hereafter
our grandsons, together with our land, we [m]ade a separate bronze tab-
let of the oath. We [pla]ced it before the Stormgod of Ḫattuša in Ḫattuša.”32
It would make sense to understand kāša in text (24) as indicating the physical
object inscribed with the text of this instruction and with the appurtenant
oath. Thus, the translation “herewith” seems appropriate when we understand
it in the sense of “with/by means of this very object.” Text (25) is a similar
example:
(25) KUB 26.29 + KUB 31.55 obv. 7–8 (MS)

nu=šmaš [k]⸢ā⸣ša DUTU ŠI linganunun (8) [nu=šmaš lin]kiyaš ṬUP-PÍ
i[yanu]un
“Herewith I, my majesty, have placed you under oath, [and] I m[ad]e [for
you] a tablet of the [oa]th.”33
There may even be occurrences of the self-referential function of kāša in let-

ters. Text (26), which was written from the commander of the chariot-warriors
to Kaššu, could be viewed as a document certifying this official’s appointment
to a new military post.
(26) HKM 70 Vs. 4–12 (MS)

kī kuit iyaš (5) n=ašta kāša ÉRIN MEŠ.ḪI.A (6) parā tuk=pat (7) ēšzi (§:8)
kāša=za piran (9) damēdani A-NA ÉRIN MEŠ (10) lamniyanza (11) nu
liliwaḫḫūanzi (12) ūnni
32 Restored according to the duplicate KBo 50.151 + KBo 50.269 obv.! i 1′–6′/1′–3′; see Miller
(2013: 198–201): “Hereby, then, have we…[ma]de a sepa[rate] bronze tablet of the oath.”
33 Treaty of Arnuwanda I with Ura, translated by de Martino (1996: 78): “ecco voi, [gua]
rdate, (io), il Sole, ho fatto giurare.”

378 Steitler
“What is this that you have done? Herewith you alone have more(?)
troops. (§) Herewith you are named (as commander) over another troop,
so hurry here quickly!”34
5 Distinguishing kāša and kāšma
We now briefly turn our attention to kāšma, although it is not the main focus
of this paper. The problem of distinguishing the function and meaning of kāša
vs. kāšma in the letters has already been mentioned (see above, Introduction
with n. 4, as well as §3), and the proposed use of both as terms of discourse
deixis might be a partial solution. In other instances, though, this explanation
is not completely satisfactory. Rieken (2009: 272) identified the origin of kāša
and kāšma in the distributive forms kā…kā=ma “here…there,” which was trans-
ferred perspectivally to 1st and 2nd person deixis “here with me…there with
you.”35 However, Goedegebuure (2014: 332–333) observed that when kā- is used
distributively, the entire correlated pair is still considered to refer somehow to
the sphere of the speaker. Consequently, it should be questioned whether
kāšma was as strongly tied to the addressee as Rieken claims, or if kāšma might
have remained loosely connected with the speaker. The use of parā nai- “to
dispatch” in the letters provides a good example: text (27) uses kāša, while in
text (28) we find kāšma. Both occur with 1st person sg. preterite verbs and seem
to carry an identical meaning in each sentence:
(27) HKM 36 obv. 6–7 (MS)

n=aš=ta? (or: =ašta) kā[š]a ÉRIN MEŠ pangarīt (7) parā ne[ḫḫu]n
(Answer to the addressee’s request for troops:) “kāša I have dispatched
troops (to you?) in large numbers.”36
(28) HKM 1 lower edge 8–9 (MS)

nu=kan kāšma (9) ANŠE.KUR.RA ḪI.A (10) parā neḫḫun
“I have dispatched chariots kāšma (i.e. (to) there(?)/thither(?)).”37
34 Hoffner (2009: 226): “In view of this performance of yours: Herewith the squadron is
henceforth yours alone. You are herewith named to another military unit.”
35 Rieken (2009: 272) notes that it is surprising that the 2nd person deictic form was not
apāš=ma, since apa- is otherwise the demonstrative pronoun functioning in the capacity
of 2nd person deixis, according to Goedegebuure.
36 Alp (1991: 182–183): “siehe, ich habe Truppen in großer Zahl hinausgeschickt”; Hoffner
(2009: 149): “I have just dispatched troops in large numbers.”
37 Alp (1991: 120–121): “siehe, ich habe die Wagenkämpfer hinausgeschickt”; Hoffner (2009:
97): “I have just dispatched chariotry.”

One should not rule out the possibility that kāša and kāšma might even at
some point have begun to lose their original nuances that distinguished be-
tween the realm of the speaker and the realm of the addressee. There are cases
where kāša or kāšma do not necessarily seem to contribute any substantial
information to the text. Under these circumstances, should we consider re-
turning to the conventional translation “behold”/“siehe”? Or should perhaps
another interjection be substituted there instead?
6 Conclusion
In summary, since there are so many occasions in which Hoffner’s interpreta-

tion of kāša does not suit the meaning of the Hittite text, temporal immediacy
should be questioned as a viable interpretation of this term. This is demon-
strated especially by the attestations of kāša in temporal subordinate clauses,
in combination with temporal adverbs or adverbial phrases, with s tate-of-being
verbs, (at least once) in a nominal sentence, and in other individual contexts
where the logical sequence of events precludes an interpretation of kāša as “I
have just”/“I am about to”/“I am presently doing something.”
Alternatively, Rieken’s interpretation of kāša as a term of 1st person deixis
can be accepted in many cases; however, the connection of kāšma with the
addressee proposed by Rieken is a matter which still calls for further investiga-
tion. Due caution should be exercised with regard to this point. Rieken’s under-
standing of kāša and kāšma at the level of situational deixis is complemented
very nicely by Goedegebuure’s treatment of the demonstratives as expressions
of discourse deixis and self-referential deixis. Applying the categories of dis-
course dexis38 and self-reference to kāša provides us with new potential expla-
nations for a word commonly appearing in the Hittite texts.
Abbreviations
HHCTO Ahmet Ünal, Hittite and Hurrian Tablets from Ortaköy (Çorum), Central
Turkey
HHT Kaspar K. Riemschneider, Hurritische und hethitische Texte
HKM Sedat Alp, Hethitische Keilschrifttafeln aus Maşat
TA.08.E.1 Tell Afis excavation inventory number
38 Notably, the discourse deictic function of kāša proposed by Goedegebuure is very similar
to Hrozný’s own suggestion that kāša might have been an “überleitende Partikel” (see the
introductory remarks above).

380 Steitler
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Chapter 19
Lycian Erimñnuha
Jan Tavernier
Abstract
The article takes a closer look at the Lycian name Erimñnuha. The analysis of this
name is the basis for the study of several other Lycian names, all containing the ele-
ment Mñnu-.
Keywords
Anatolian onomastics – Lycian language – Anatolian religion
1 Introduction: The Names Erimñnuha and Mñnuhe1
In his review of Parker’s 2013 volume on personal names in Anatolia, Ilya

Yakubovich (2015: 3) rightly remarks that personal names in Anatolia have
basically been studied by two groups of scholars: on the one hand there are
classicists specializing in Greek onomastics, on the other hand specialists in
Indo-European languages (especially in Anatolian languages) and Ancient
Near Eastern studies studying indigenous Anatolian names. Yakubovich also
observes that ‘the onomastical systems of individual languages or groups have
rarely been holistically investigated.’
Both of these statements are true. With regard to the second, the first collec-
tion and study of Anatolian anthroponyms was produced by Johannes Sund-
wall in 1913. Sundwall concentrates on Lycian names, but also includes a larger
corpus of Anatolian personal names. Another general study was published by
Emmanuel Laroche in 1952. This ‘Recueil d’onomastique hittite’ was the fore-
runner of his major work Les noms des Hittites (Laroche 1966). More recently,
1 This research has been funded by the Interuniversity Attraction Poles Programme initiated
by the Belgian Science Policy Office (iap VII/14: ‘Greater Mesopotamia: Reconstruction of its
Environment and History’).

Lycian Erimñnuha 383
Marie-Claude Trémouille has set up the ‘Répertoire onomastique’ on the web-

site http://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/HPM/index.html. This database
contains supplementary names that can be added to the corpus of Anatolian
anthroponyms established by Laroche. Anatolian indigenous names in Greek
inscriptions from Anatolia have also been investigated by Philo Houwink ten
Cate (1961), Louis Robert (1963a), Ladislav Zgusta (1964 and 1970) and, more
recently, by Wolfgang Blümel (1992), Anne-Valérie Schweyer (2002: 95–128) and
Nicola Cau (2003, 2005a and 2005b).
Despite all of these efforts, however, the historical and linguistic analysis of
these personal names is still in its preliminary stages. Most previous analyses
must be regarded as superficial, and a large ‘Anatolisches Namenbuch’, such as
exists for the Iranian languages (‘Iranisches Personennamenbuch’; see Schmitt
2006 for a general introduction to this project), has not yet been developed.
The lack of such a reference work constitutes without doubt one of the most
important lacunae in the field of Anatolian studies. The only general publica-
tion offering more detailed analyses of personal names is the monograph of
Thomas Zehnder (2010) on Hittite feminine names. Although this article can-
not make more than a small contribution, it is our intention to make some
progress in the study of Anatolian onomastics in discussing and studying a
specific anthroponym attested in a Lycian inscription dating from the Ach-
aemenid period (c. 550–330 bc).
The anthroponym studied here, Erimñnuha, is attested in the text TL 86
from Myra. The text runs as follows:
(1) ebẽñnẽ : prñnawã : mẽ ti prñnawatẽ : Erimñnuha

(2) Semuteh : tideimi : hrppi : atli ehbi : sejẽni : ehbi
Erimñnuha, the son of Semute, has constructed this funerary monument

for himself and for his mother.
It is clear that this is a typical Lycian funerary inscription, and also that the
form Erimñnuha is a nominative singular. The anthroponym has been dis-
cussed for the first time by Schmidt (1876: 13), who connected it with the name
Mñnuhe, son of Tm̃ peime, attested in TL 112:1,2,3 (from Limyra) and also a
nominative singular. This connection is now generally accepted (Houwink ten
Cate 1961: 173, Zgusta 1964: 320 no. 939, Neumann 1969: 382, Neumann and
Tischler 2007: 222).
In addition, there are other possibly related Lycian proper names. The first
one is Ada[m̃ ]mñna-, attested in its dative form Ada[m̃ ]mñnaje in the same
text (TL 112:2). In fact, the latter is the son of Mñnuhe, which strengthens the

384 Tavernier
link between both elements, even if mñnu- belongs to the u-stems and
[m̃ ]mñna- to the a-stems.
A second possibly related form is mñnãtahi (TL 26:15, from Tlos; cf. Gander
2014: 394–396), attested in an interesting context, more precisely in a list of
payments:
[…] upahi : adaijẽ : malijehe : ˹1˺ […] arailise : 103 ½ : haqaduwehe : 52 ½

t[…] ppebẽñti 22 : pagda : 18 ½ : purθ[…] mñnãtahi : 13 ½ : winbẽte : 13 ½.
Neumann and Tischler (2007: 222) considered mñnãtahi to be an adjective

derived from *mñnãta/i-, which they consider an extension in -ant- of mẽñna/e-
‘city’. Nevertheless, this idea is not very plausible, as the context clearly indi-
cates that one is dealing with proper names. In fact, Neumann and Tischler do
consider the other words (e.g. Winbẽte) as personal names (Melchert 2004: 108;
Neumann and Tischler 2007: 426). It should not therefore be surprising that
other scholars (e.g. Melchert 2004: 99) have also expressed the idea that per-
sonal names are enumerated here. More recently, however, Schürr (2009: 107;
2014: 749–750; also Gander 2014: 396–397) has convincingly argued that top-
onyms situated in the territory of Tlos are involved in this inscription. He
thereby confirms the suggestion by Arkwright (1915: 103) that these names
probably belonged to demes.
The fact that Mñnãtahi is a toponym and not an anthroponym, however,
does not pose any threat to a connection with our name Erimñnuha, as top-
onyms often derive from personal names. Such a link is proven by the connec-
tion between this toponym and the anthroponym Μνανδρασις (Heberdey and
Kalinka 1897, no. 79: 2; cf. Sundwall 1913: 150 and Zgusta 1964: 320 no. 936). This
name was identified by Schürr (2009: 107; 2014: 150; cf. Gander 2014: 397 n. 144)
with Lycian Mñnãtahi, a plausible identification, the more so as the personal
name is attested in an inscription from Oinoanda, a place also mentioned in
the list of payments in TL 26 (Winbẽte; Schürr 2009: 105–107; Gander 2014:
394). The name behind both the Greek and Lycian forms is likely to be
*Mñnãt(r)ahi- (Schürr 2014: 150), i.e. Mñna- extended with -tr(a)-, followed by
the possessive suffix -ahi-.
The third possibly related Lycian form to be discussed here is Mñnusama-.
This personal name can easily be linked to the names Mñnuhe and Erimñnuha
and could be composed of the stem Mñnu- followed by the suffix -ama-, which
is also attested in the names Χpparama and Περλαμος (Neumann and Tischler
2007: 222). If so, the element Mñnus- might be an archaic nominative form that
has kept its ending -s, despite the usual phonological development in Milyan
(the original -s was not retained in Auslaut after a vowel). If not, the name must

be split up into Mñnu- and sama-, but the etymology of these two elements is
not very clear.
Alongside the possible Lycian connections, various names attested in Hit-
tite, Babylonian and Greek sources may also be related to the name discussed
here:
(1) Manusis (spelled fMa-nu-ši-iš; Laroche 1966: 113 no. 753): Hittite feminine
name, attested in a list of cult singers (HT 2 v 8; Taggar-Cohen 2006: 142–
143; Zehnder 2010: 20). The name Manusi-, belonging to a woman origi-
nating from the town of Ankuwa, may well be connected to our Lycian
name (Neumann and Tischler 2007: 222).
(2) Mennâ (spelled mMe-en-na-͗; Tavernier 2015: 171): name attested in a
promissory note from Babylonia (Dar. 458:8), dated to the reign of Darius
i. Mennâ is a messenger from a certain Megimaššu, in whose name he
must receive an indebted sum of money. His master and various witness-
es are labelled ‘Imbukean’ (Im-bu-ka-a-a).
(3) Menâ (spelled mMe-na-͗; Tavernier 2015: 171): name attested as a witness in
a learning contract from Babylon (Dar. 457:14), dated to the reign of Dari-
us i. Menâ, just like Negamaršu in line 13, is called an ‘Imbukean’
(Im-bu-ka-a-a).
(4) Minnâ (spelled mMi-in-na-͗; Tavernier 2015: 171): name attested in a Baby-
lonian text (pbs 2/1 53:2) from the Murašû Archive, dated to the reign of
Darius ii (Cardascia 1951: 91–92). His son Tilapa is explicitly called a Ly-
cian, so the chances are that Minnâ too is of Lycian origin.
(5) Minâ (spelled mMi-na-͗; Tavernier 2015: 171): name attested as witness in a
legal text from Babylon (Dar. 260:30),2 dated to the reign of Darius i. He
too is labelled an ‘Imbukean’ (Im-bu-ka-a-a).
(6) Μεννέας: attested in Caria (4th c. bc–Imperial Period; lgpn V.B, 289),
Cilicia Tracheia (3rd c. ad; lgpn V.B, 289), Ionia (1st c. bc–1st c. ad; lgpn
V.B, 289), Lycia (2nd c. bc–Imperial Period; lgpn V.B, 289), Lydia (Impe-
rial Period; lgpn V.B, 289) and Pamphylia (2nd c. bc–2nd c. ad; lgpn
V.B, 289–290).
(7) Μέννης: attested in Aiolis (date not known; lgpn V.A 300), in Bithynia
(1st–2nd c. ad; lgpn V.A 300), on Lesbos (Hellenistic period; lgpn i,
309), in Scythia Minor (2nd–3rd c. ad; lgpn iv, 231) and in Thrace (2nd c.
ad; lgpn iv, 231).
(8) Μέννις: attested in Caria (4th c. bc; lgpn V.B, 290) and on Delos (3rd–2nd
c. bc; lgpn, 309).
2 Transliterations of the Babylonian texts Dar. 260, 457 and 458, all three belonging to the Egibi
Archive, can be found on the website www.achemenet.com (accessed 02.11.2015).

386 Tavernier
(9) Μέννυς: this name is mentioned by Robert (1963a: 187). Research in the
Lexicon of Greek Personal Names confirms that the name is attested in
Thessaly (1st c. bc; lgpn III.B, 281), Macedonia (2nd–3rd c. ad; lgpn iv,
231) and Bithynia (128 ad; lgpn V.A 300).
(10) Μένυς: attested in Locris (2nd c. bc; lgpn III.B, 282). Bechtel (1917: 312)
believes that we are dealing with a hypocoristic of a name which contains
the element -μένης. In any case, it is most likely identical to the preceding
name.
(11) Μέννουλα: attested in Thessaly (1st c. bc; lgpn III.B, 281).
(12) Μενοκαμις: attested in Pisidia (Sundwall 1913: 150).
(13) Μένουα: attested in Pisidia (Zgusta 1964: 310 no. 899, dating from Imperial
Roman times; cf. Zgusta 1957: 570). Although the script of this text is
Greek, its language is Pisidian. Here we have a nominative of a masculine
name (Zgusta 1957: 604). Brandenstein (1950: 1793; also Gusmani 1958:
866) explains Μένουα as composed of Gr. μήν ‘moon’ and Luwian uwa-
‘son’, in which case it would be a hybrid Greek-Luwian name.
(14) Μένουσα; attested in Mysia (2nd c. bc; lgpn V.A, 300).
(15) Μίννα: attested in Caria (1st–2nd c. ad; lgpn V.B, 297).
(16) Μινναιος: attested in Pamphylia (303–305 ad; lgpn V.B, 297).
(17) Μιννᾶς: attested in Caria (3rd–2nd c. bc; lgpn V.B, 297) and Mysia (1st c.
ad; lgpn V.A, 318).
(18) Μίννη: attested in Ionia (4th c. bc; lgpn V.A, 318) and Caria (2nd–1st c.
bc; lgpn V.B, 297).
(19) Μιννίας: attested in Caria (3rd c. bc; lgpn V.B, 297).
(20) Μίννιον: attested in Ionia (230–220 bc; lgpn V.A, 318).
(21) Μιννίς: attested in Caria (320 bc–1st c. ad; lgpn V.B, 297), Ionia (1st c. bc;
lgpn V.A, 318) and Pamphylia (Roman Empire; lgpn V.B, 297).
(22) Μιννίων: attested in Caria (4th c. bc–1st c. ad; lgpn V.B, 297–298), Ionia
(c. 340–1st c. bc; lgpn V.A, 318) and Lydia (165 ad; lgpn V.A, 318).
(23) Μίννος: attested in Ionia (325 bc–2nd c. bc; lgpn V.A, 318), Caria (325
bc–2nd c. bc; lgpn V.B, 298) and Mysia (2nd–1st c. bc; lgpn V.A, 318).
(24) Μνιεσυτης: attested in Caria (Sundwall 1913: 150).
The names attested in Babylonian texts are certainly Anatolian, as one of the
individuals is explicitly called a Lycian. The names attested in Greek texts were
considered to be purely Greek by Robert (1963a: 187, 226 nn. 6–7; 1963b: 7, 10–11;
also Zgusta 1964: 317–318), the main argument being the occurrence of the
regular Greek suffix -υς, implying that all other elements of these names must
also be Greek. Earlier, however, Sundwall (1913: 150–151) had recognized some
of these names as being Carian or Lycian: Μιννίς (*Mñna-), Μιννίων (*Mñna-;
cf. also Cau 2005a: 371), Μνανδρασις (*Mñn(a)-ẽtre-ezi-; cf. also Cau 2005a: 372

and supra), Μενοκαμις (*Mñnu-kami-) and Μνιεσυτης (*Mñn(a)-ije-ezi-). Cer-

tain place names also contain the same element, at least according to
Sundwall.3
An important argument in favour of an Anatolian etymology is the fact that
Anatolians most probably did not adopt Greek names in the Achaemenid pe-
riod, but would rather have adopted Iranian names. In addition, it must be
noted that a search in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names reveals that the
great majority of names attested in Greek actually belong to persons living in
Anatolia (esp. in Caria, Ionia and Mysia) and that these are among the earliest
attested ones.4 Also, it is true that the suffix -υς is frequently used in Greek
names, but even then the name need not be Greek, as it would be strange for
the Lycians to translate a Greek name with a genitive form.
For the sake of completeness, one should also mention the name Εκατομνως
(Blümel 1992: 13; Cau 2003: 301), frequently attested in Caria, which is usually
explained as a Greek name, but which Adiego (1994), Blümel (1994: 85 n. 16)
and Cau (2005a: 368) analyse as being of Anatolian origin. In that case, the
second element could very well be a Greek rendering of Carian/Lycian
*mñnu-.
Without expressing an opinion on the possible links between these names at-
tested in Lycian, Babylonian and Greek texts, one may safely assume that the
Lycian names Erimñnuha and Mñnuhe are related and that there is also a plau-
sible connection with Ada[m̃ ]mñna-. Furthermore, if one recognizes the sec-
ond part of the name discussed here, Mñnuha, as a genitive singular of Mñnu-,
the name Erimñnuha must mean ‘Eri of Mñnu-’. The name Mñnuhe is then a
hypocoristic of Erimñnuha.
2 The First Element: eri-
We may now proceed to the study of the first element of this name, eri-. Gener-
ally, eri- is considered as the Lycian counterpart of the Hittite preverb arḫa
‘(away) from’ (Laroche 1958: 177; Houwink ten Cate 1961: 172; Neumann 1996: 517
n. 13; Melchert 1999: 75 n. 3). If this were true, the name Erimñnuha would have
to mean ‘away from Mñnu(ha)’, which, however, seems a bit bizarre. Moreover,
3 The question may be asked here if the name Μιμνασος (Cau 2005b: 398) also contains the ele-
ment *mñna-.
4 4th c. bc (cf. Corsten 2010: 318).

388 Tavernier
names beginning with arḫa are not (yet) attested in Hittite or Luwian (no such
names occur in Laroche’s or Tremouille’s lists).
An alternative solution is to see *eri- as a substantive that is not directly at-
tested in Lycian, but which may serve as an element in Lycian compounds
(Neumann and Tischler 2007: 69).5 It would then be the equivalent of Hitt.
ara- ‘companion, friend’. In addition, it appears often as a second element in
personal names. The best example is the Hieroglyphic Luwian royal name
Yariris < *Yarri(y)-ari-s ‘companion, friend of Yarri (War God)’. The Hittite
name Mu-ul-li-ia-ra (Mulli-ara-; Laroche 1966: 120 no. 818) could be a contrac-
tion of *Muwalli-ara- ‘mighty companion’ (Neumann and Tischler 2007: 67).
In Lycian itself there are two possible examples of compounds with eri-:
(1) The proper name Ijeri (TL 21,3) is composed of Ija- and eri- ‘companion of
the god Iya’ (Neumann and Tischler 2007: 150).
(2) Uwihairi6 (TL 138,2): According to Neumann and Tischler (2007: 414), this
name consists of uwihi, a genitive of an adjective whose final vowel was
changed to -a, and eri- ‘companion’. The adjective would then be uwi-, but
its meaning and etymology are still unexplained.
Other examples are attested in Greek (Neumann and Tischler 2007: 67):
(1) Νεναρις ‘companion of his brother’ (Cilicia; Roman Empire; lgpn V.B
312).
(2) Πεδετερις ‘companion of Pedeta(?)’ (Lycia; Hellenistic period; Zgusta
1964, 423 no. 1229-2).
(3) Ταρκυ-αρις ‘companion of Tarku (= Tarhunt)’ (Cilicia; 3rd–2nd c. bc; lgpn
V.B 400).
(4) Τεδιαρις ‘companion of his father’ (Cilicia; 2nd c. bc; lgpn V.B 404).
(5) Τροκοαρις ‘companion of Tarku (= Tarhunt)’ (Cilicia; 3rd c. ad; lgpn V.B
400).
There are also anthroponyms having eri- ‘companion’ as their first element.
Examples are:
(1) Αρμοας (Lycia; 1st c. bc–3rd c. ad; lgpn V.B 59): *Ari-muwa- (cf. Houwink
ten Cate 1961: 173).
(2) Αρμοασις (Lycia; Hellenistic Period; Zgusta 1964, 94 no. 97–14): *Ari-mu-
wa-zi-7 (cf. Houwink ten Cate 1961: 173).
(3) Ερμοας (Lycia; 2nd c. bc–2nd c. ad; lgpn V.B 151): *Eri-muwa- (cf. Hou-
wink ten Cate 1961: 173).
5 Houwink ten Cate (1961: 173) also postulates another nominal element eri-, next to the adver-
bial eri-.
6 The Greek equivalent of this name is attested in the form Ουαρις (Cilicia; 2nd–3rd c. ad;
lgpn V.B 334).
7 This suffix is often found in Luwian and Lycian names (Houwink ten Cate 1961: 61–62; La-
roche 1966: 333).

(4) Ερβιγεσις (Lycia; 2nd c. bc–2nd c. ad; lgpn V.B 143): *Eri-piḫa-zi- (cf.
Houwink ten Cate 1961: 173).
(5) Ερπιας (Lycia; 1st–3rd c. ad; lgpn V.B 155): possibly *Eri-piya- (cf. Hou-
wink ten Cate 1961: 173).
(6) Ερπιγρης (Lycia; 2nd–1st c. bc; lgpn V.B 155): *Eri-piḫra-, cf. Milyan Piχre
(cf. Houwink ten Cate 1961: 173).
Accordingly, it may be safely assumed that the element eri- ‘companion, friend’
is firmly integrated in the onomastics of 2nd- and 1st-millennium Asia Minor.
This automatically leads to an analysis of the name in question as Eri-Mñnuha
‘companion of Mñnu’ (if Mñnuha is a genitive) or ‘companion of Mñnuha’.
3 The Second Element: mñnu- or mñnuha?
The only thing left to do is to study the second element of the name, Mñnu(ha).
In order to come closer to the right meaning of this element, various ideas and
possible cognate lexemes should be discussed.
The first word which at first sight seems to be a very suitable basis for Lycian
mñnuha is Luwian manuḫa, frequently attested in Hieroglyphic Luwian
(cf. http://web-corpora.net/LuwianCorpus/search/ for references; accessed
22.10.2015). Meriggi (1935–1936: 121), Hawkins (1975: 136 and 2000: 534–535) and
the Chicago Hittite Dictionary (L-N, 176) consider this an adverb, to be trans-
lated as ‘ever, (with negation) never’ (Meriggi), ‘by no means, not at all’
(Hawkins).8 If this is right, the name would then mean ‘forever a friend’ or ‘not
at all a friend’.
However, it is also possible to read mñnu-ha (so already Sundwall 1913: 151)
and to consider the second element a genitive form of mñnu-. In this context,
new possibilities come to mind. It could for instance be linked to the already
mentioned name Manusi, as Luwian manuha could easily develop into Lycian
mñnu-. Unfortunately this name has not yet been convincingly explained, al-
though various possibilities do exist.
(1) The name could refer to the Luwian noun mannu (attested in Cuneiform
Luwian in nominative, accusative and dative-locative), but the etymolo-
gy of this noun is not known (Melchert 1993: 138; HHw: 111).
(2) The Luwian language has a name element uzzi- ‘desire, wish’ (logogram
IR; Zehnder 2010: 101–103). This element is exclusively attested as a second
element in female names. Moreover, it often occurs after a divine name:
8 The Annotated Corpus of Luwian Texts (http://web-corpora.net/LuwianCorpus/search/)

gives the translation ‘anyhow’.

390 Tavernier
Arma-uzzi- ‘fulfilled wish of the Moon God’ (Laroche 1966: 39 no. 132;
Zehnder 2010: 124–125), Massana-uzzi- ‘fulfilled wish of the gods’ (La-
roche 1966: 115 no. 775; Zehnder 2010: 218), etc. Hence one could analyse
Manusi as Manuzzi- ‘fulfilled wish of the god Man(u)’. Unfortunately, a
god with this name is not (yet) attested in Anatolia. In addition, the spell-
ing with /s/ poses problems for such an analysis. On the other hand, it
would also prove that Hitt. Manusi and Lyc. mñnu- (if connected with
Manusi-) are of Luwian origin.
(3) One should not forget about the toponym Manuz(z)iya (del Monte and
Tischler 1978: 259–260; CHD L-N: 179), frequently attested in Hittite texts,
but situated in the land of Kizzuwatna, a land with a Luwian-speaking
population. If one could establish a secure connection b etween the an-
throponyms Manusi and Manuziya, then it would be certain that Manusi
is a Luwian, not a Hittite name. The name could then be composed of
manu- and the suffix -zi. Again a connection with the Lycian element
mñnu- remains possible, but the meaning of manu- is not known. It could
also be identical with the aforementioned Luwian noun mannu-.
(4) One should finally take into account the possibility that Manusi is simply
not Indo-European. In this sense, Zehnder (2010: 217) proposes a link with
the Hattian anthroponym Hudusi (cf. Laroche 1966: 340), the author of a
Hattian ritual. If this is correct, Manusi is of Hattian origin and has noth-
ing to do with the Lycian name discussed here.
Thirdly, Hittite has a verb minu- ‘to make mild; to heal’ (CHD L-N: 291). If a link
between this verb and mñnu- turns out to be correct, we have a name meaning
‘friend of him who heals’. The second element could then be an epithet of
some unspecified divinity.
Finally, Lycian has a lexeme meñna/e- ‘city, town’ (Neumann and Tischler
2007: 207), to be connected with Luwian *mina- ‘city, town’ (Hieroglyphic Lu-
wian URBS-mi-ni-). A problem, however, with this connection is the morpho-
logical affiliation of the two words, meñna/e- belonging to the a/e-stems and
mñnu- belonging to the u-stems. Moreover, their graphic renderings are differ-
ent: meñna/e- and mñnu-. Therefore, I would rather propose a clear distinction
between the two Lycian forms. As a result, I believe the name cannot mean
‘friend of the city’.
There is still one possibility which has not yet been discussed. Nevertheless,
it is a bold possibility, which remains unproven and is, as a matter of fact, very
difficult to prove. The question may be asked if one is not dealing here with the
original Lycian name of the well-known deity Men (Greek Μήν), belonging to
the u-stems? It is indeed tempting to analyze the name in question as
‘companion of Men’ (a naming type attested in various languages), but it must

be stressed that this hypothesis cannot be verified due to a lack of sources. If,
however, it were true, the names discussed here would constitute the oldest
attestations of Men9 and would confirm the assumed Anatolian origin of this
deity (cf. Labarre 2009: 391–396).
One may even go further. If this name really contains the theophoric ele-
ment Mñnu- (Greek Μήν), it may be connected with Hittite minu- ‘to heal’, as
obtaining a healing was an important aspect of his cult (Labarre 2009: 403). An
objection to this idea, however, is that Men was basically a lunar god. Never-
theless, one could argue that Greek Μήν is a folk etymology of the original
name Min- ‘he who heals’. Note in any case that the Hittite-Luwian word for
‘moon’ is arma-, not men- or min-. In Lycian this becomes erma-, implying that
the Moon-god would not have been named after the moon itself, which is in-
deed strange.
To summarize, Men could be an original Anatolian healing divinity which
was later transformed into a lunar god, partly because of the folk etymology
the Greeks attached to him. One possible objection to the presence of this de-
ity in Lycia and Caria is that Men was originally a Phrygian lunar god (as
claimed by Drexler 1894–1897: 2688), a widespread opinion. Nevertheless, even
if this is true, it does not weaken the idea formulated here, as divinities and
their veneration for the most part were not limited to just one specific region.
Moreover, the Phrygian origin of Μήν has been rightly questioned by Lane
(1967–1968: 81 and 84), who argues instead for an origin in Western Anatolia.
Another problem with the analysis of Mñnuha as a genitive (strangely end-
ing in -ha instead of regular -he) is that Anatolian onomastics do not have
certain examples of the use of cases in anthroponyms, with the possible
exception of Lycian Uwihairi. Nevertheless, such use does occur in other Indo-
European languages, for example Iranian. There, names such as *Bagam-kāma-
‘desiring Baga’ (with accusative of Baga-; Tavernier 2007: 136 no. 4.2.266),
*R̥ tam-bara- ‘carrying *R̥ ta-’ (with accusative of *R̥ ta-; Tavernier 2007: 298 no.
4.2.1485), *Vaum-isa- ‘desiring the good’ (with accusative of vau-; Tavernier
2007: 21 no. 1.2.33) and *Xšaθrē-zāta-, the monophthongized equivalent of
*Xšaθrai-zāta- ‘born in the kingdom’ (with locative of *xšaθra-; Tavernier 2007:
359 no. 4.2.1976) are attested. Nonetheless, this problem can be solved if one
considers the suffix -ha/he not to be a genitive, but the Lycian continuant of
the older possessive suffix *-(V)ssV- (H.C. Melchert, pers. comm. 15.04.2016; on
the possessive suffix itself, see Melchert 2012). Although the usual form of this
suffix in Lycian is -ehe-, a form -ahi (with retention of the stem vowel -a-) is
9 The oldest attestation for his cult is an offering table from Attica, dated to 340 bc (Labarre
2009: 397).

392 Tavernier
attested in qlahi (Neumann and Tischler 2007: 304). The final a of the name
Erimñnuha could be the individualizing suffix (cf. Hajnal 1994: 152 and 166) or
could reflect an abstract formation. The meanings of the names Erimñnuha
and Mñnuhe would then be ‘having the quality of being a Mnuhian friend’ and
‘pertaining to Mñnu-’, whereby it is left open whether Mñnu- can be identified
with the deity Men mentioned above.
4 Summary
In light of all these unclear aspects of the analysis, it is hard to draw any con-
vincing conclusions concerning the name Erimñnuha. It may be accepted as
reasonably certain that the name is composed of two elements, eri- ‘compan-
ion, friend’ on the one hand and -mñnu or -mñnuha on the other hand.
With regard to the second element, several possibilities come to mind. If it
is to be analyzed as mñnuha, one may think of a connection with Luwian ‘ever’
and the name would then mean ‘forever a friend’. If, however, mñnuha is a geni-
tive in -ha of a lexeme mñnu-, there are several possible explanations:
(1) It is related to Lycian meñna/e-, which may mean ‘city, town’. This ele-
ment may occur in names attested in Greek and Babylonian and perhaps
in the Hittite name Manusi-. The name Erimñnuha would then mean
‘friend of the city’. As already demonstrated, however, this idea is not
plausible.
(2) Erimñnuha is related to the Luwian noun mannu (attested in Cuneiform
Luwian in the nominative, accusative and dative-locative). Unfortunate-
ly, the etymology of this noun is not known. It could also be the continu-
ant of the element Manu- attested in a personal (Manusi-) and a place
name (Manuziya).
(3) Mñnu- is the original Anatolian name of the healing god Men (Greek
Μήν) and may be related to Hitt. minu- ‘to heal’. Greek Μήν is then a folk
etymology based on his lunar character. If this is correct, the name Er-
imñnuha means ‘having the quality of being a Mnuhian companion’. The
Carian equivalent is Mñna-.
(4) Mñnu- is the Lycian representation of Hitt. minu- ‘to heal’ and as such is a
hitherto unknown healing divinity, not identical to Μήν. The name Er-
imñnuha then means ‘having the quality of being a Mnuhian
companion’.
It thus seems very likely that the names Erimñnuha, Mñnuhe, Ada[m̃ ]mñna,
Mñnãtahi and Μνανδρασις contain the element *mñna- (Carian) or *mñnu-
(Lycian). The other names attested in Babylonian and Greek texts, as well as

the names attested in Hittite texts, are doubtful in this regard and may be com-
posed of another lexical element.10
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Chapter 20
The Indo-European Feminine, the Neuter, and the

Diagnostic Value of the τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule in Greek
and Anatolian
Annette Teffeteller
Abstract
The “τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule”, found in Anatolian, Indo-Iranian, and Greek, linking a s o-called
neuter “plural” subject with a singular verb, has recently been challenged as having no
diagnostic value for noun-verb concord and thus for the grammatical number of the
forms in *-h2 conventionally termed neuter “plurals”, and consequently for the associa-
tion of the “feminine” with the “neuter” category. This study attempts to reinstate the
rule and to reestablish its significance for the ongoing debate regarding the origin of
the feminine gender in Indo-European by identifying the apparent view of these forms
in *-h2 and its reflexes on the part of speakers of the early IE languages in which the
rule is found.1
Keywords
feminine gender – neuter – mass noun – abstract – collective – cognitive agent – scope
of predication – number concord/discord – agency – constructio ad sensum
1 Introduction
It is now generally agreed that Anatolian shows no trace of a feminine gender,

having only two genders, designated “common” (or “animate”) and “neuter” (or
“inanimate”) (e.g. Melchert 2014). The third gender, the “feminine”, known from
1 Abbreviations used: KuT: Text numbers from excavations at Kuşaklı; OH: Old Hittite; MH:
Middle Hittite; NH: New Hittite; MS: Middle (Hittite) Script; NS: New (Hittite) Script.

The Indo-European Feminine, the Neuter, & Diagnostic Value 397
other early Indo-European languages (Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, etc.) thus arose in
“Core” Indo-European (Melchert’s term; “Inner” IE for others; whatever the
designation, the ancestral language group following the departure of the speak-
ers of what would develop into the attested Anatolian branch of the family).2
Given the late development of the feminine gender, questions that arise in-
clude the following:
What motivated the rise of the feminine gender?

Where did it start?
What is its relation to the so-called “common” gender on the one hand
and to the “neuter” on the other?
How is it marked? Or rather, why is it marked as it is?
Melchert (2014: 260) specifies that:
Any account of the rise of the feminine gender in Core Indo-European

must address two questions. First, what was the previous function of its
various exponents before they became markers of the feminine gram-
matical gender? Second, how and why did these particular suffixes come
to be associated with the feminine?
The traditional view maintains that the feminine, marked with -a (variously
long or short) in the daughter languages, a reflex of PIE *-h2, shared its suffix
with neuter forms designating collective or abstract or mass entities (extended
from the original designation of “collective”) and that a split in this noun class
led to the situation seen in the daughter languages of a neuter gender on the
one hand and a feminine on the other, both marked with suffixes reflecting the
second laryngeal of Proto-Indo-European.
While this view worked very nicely on the morphological level (see Nuss-
baum 2014), it left a feeling of perplexity, even disquiet, at the circumstance of
entities and concepts purportedly properly regarded as “feminine” (including,
centrally, human females), or at least those destined for the gender to be devel-
oped and so designated, being unceremoniously lumped in with collectives
and nouns of mass reference, and, following many attempts at reconciling
these perceived problems, the early view has recently been not just
2 Leaving aside Tocharian, on which see Fellner 2014.

398 Teffeteller
c hallenged but resoundingly rejected. The new view of the challengers is that

the Indo-European feminine gender never had anything to do with the neuter
category (Melchert 2011, 2014; Luraghi 2011, 2014; Nussbaum 2014) but instead
arose from the “common” gender, the details as to motivation and develop-
ment being much debated by the “new” camp just as they were by the “old”
(space constraints preclude an extensive account of the debate here; see e.g.
Melchert 2014; Luraghi 2014; Kim 2014; Matasović 2004; Ledo-Lemos 2000,
among others).
Melchert (2014: 264) commends the view put forward by Luraghi (2009b,
2011), who, he writes, “argues convincingly that the creation of the feminine
gender in Core Indo-European was motivated by a split within the preexisting
PIE animate gender and that the split was sex-based”, and he notes (as Luraghi
does in 2011, though not in 2009b) that Meillet had already proposed in 1931
that the PIE feminine arose within the “common” or “animate” gender: “that
the creation of the feminine gender resulted from a split within the animate
gender is a fact, as argued at length already by Meillet (1931).” (We will return to
Meillet’s views below.)
Given the state of the question at the present time, the first concern is where
to start, and I will start with the so-called τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule (also known as the
“πάντα ῥεῖ” construction), linking a so-called neuter “plural” subject with a sin-
gular verb. The rule, found in Anatolian, Indo-Iranian, and Greek, has recently
come under attack as having no diagnostic value for noun-verb concord and
thus for the grammatical number of the forms in *-h2 conventionally termed
“neuter plurals”, and consequently for the association of the “feminine” with
the “neuter” category (Melchert 2011). I will attempt to reinstate the rule and to
reestablish its significance for the ongoing debate regarding the origin of the
feminine gender in Indo-European. To that end, I will attempt to identify the
view of these forms in *-h2 and their reflexes (the so-called “neuter plurals”) on
the part of speakers of the early IE languages in which the rule is found. And I
will do this with evidence mostly from philosophers and poets, mostly Greek—
much of it discussed in my 1987 article on Plato’s use of the phrase auta ta isa,
cited extensively here. Since Greek provides far and away the most extensive
evidence for the τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule, its testimony cannot be ignored.
2 The τὰ ζῷα τρέχει Rule and Neuter “plurals” in Greek
The challenge to the traditional view of the so-called neuter “plural” in *-h2 is
stated most forcefully by Melchert (2014: 258), referring to his earlier article on
the τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule, published in 2011:

As per Melchert 2011, singular verb agreement with inanimate “collective”

plural subjects is not sufficient evidence for assuming that these collec-
tives were once singulars! All other evidence argues that these nouns
were plurals from the very beginning and that they remained so in PIE.
The question, however, is fatally begged at the outset by reference to the *-h2
form as a neuter “plural”. It is debatable when the form was thoroughly reanal-
ysed as a true plural in Greek—certainly not by the early fourth century bc, as
evidenced by Plato’s usage—and perhaps never in Anatolian, which retained
singular verbal concord throughout its long history from the Bronze Age to
Hellenistic times (see van den Hout 2001: 189).
The discomfort provoked by the term “neuter plural” on the part of scholars
who have nonetheless used it (the present author included), and continue to
do so for lack of noncommittal terminology, is evidenced by the equivocation
shown in phrases such as “the so-called neuter plural” (e.g. Wackernagel 2009
[1920]: 137, even van den Hout 2001: 190: “the exact nature of the so-called neu-
ter plural -a ending is difficult to describe from a synchronic point of view”)
and remarks or tentative suggestions that the “plural” is not really plural (e.g.
van den Hout 2001: 191). The challengers on the other hand argue that the
nouns in question are pluralia tantum, insisting on the exclusively plural refer-
ence of the words (e.g. Melchert 2011, 2014 and elsewhere).
I will argue that the category in question is not constituted by—or not ex-
clusively constituted by—“collectives”; that the forms are not “plurals”; and
that they are not—and never were—“singulars”. That is, the category “singular”
is defined in relation (opposition) to “nonsingular”. For IE, “nonsingular” com-
prises the categories “dual” and “plural“. Since “plural” (with “dual”), i.e. “nons-
ingular”, is the marked category, “singular” is the default. Hence singular verbal
agreement with noncountable, indifferent-to-number “mass”, “abstract”, and
“collective” items in PIE and the relevant daughter languages—regardless of
our contemporary theoretical categories.3 The view supported here follows
that succinctly stated by Calvert Watkins (1975: 368): “Das Neutrum war ur-
sprünglich nicht zählbar und der grammatischen Kategorie des Numerus ge-
genüber indifferent.”
In late Proto-Indo-European, then, on the “traditional” view, an original cat-
egory of abstract/mass nouns and “collectives” marked with the suffix *-(e)h2
split into two categories, yielding ultimately the abstract feminine noun in -ā
(the Greek type δίκη) and the neuter “plural” in -ā/a (cf. Ostrowski 1985).
3 Melchert (2011: 397), with reference to Patri 2007: 62, recognizes the “default” value of the
singular verb but dismisses its significance for the construction in question.

400 Teffeteller
The neuter “plural”, however, continued to function as a noncountable mass

noun with singular verbal concord into the historical dialects, as attested in
Anatolian, Indo-Iranian, and Greek. Indeed, it is in our earliest Indo-Iranian
texts and in the Greek dialects that the process of reinterpretation of the old
mass noun as a true plural may be seen in progress. Nevertheless, the process
of reinterpretation is here in progress only; the neuter in -a (long or short in the
different languages) may still function semantically and syntactically as a mass
noun, e.g. RV 1.63.9 ákāri ta indra gótamebhir bráhmāṇy óktā ‘prayers have
been made by Gotamas, O Indra, addressed to thee’; Il. 10.252 ἄστρα δὲ δὴ
προβέβηκε ‘and already the stars have moved on’.
It should be noted, however, that the distinction between neuter “plural”
and feminine singular was by no means absolute in the daughter languages;
considerable confusion between the two categories may be seen in Greek, e.g.
ἡνία, οἰκία, Homeric neuter “plurals” but post-Homeric feminine singulars; and
in Vedic, e.g., tánā, neuter “plural” RV 9.62.2 but feminine singular RV 3.25.1.4
As I stated thirty years ago (1987: 393 n. 39):
It is a question of perception: the perception of the speakers who use the

word. Thus English “grapes” is a count noun whereas Italian “uva” is a
mass noun. English “prayers” and “stars” are indeed count nouns; but Ve-
dic bráhmāṇi and Homeric ἄστρα are mass nouns.
Well-known examples of English mass/count pairs with reference to the same

real-world material or concepts include gravel/pebbles, clothing/garments,
game/wild animals, timber/timbers, etc. (the last an instance of a mass noun
made secondarily countable, a common phenomenon in many languages, in-
cluding Greek and English), and, most notably, the classic example in English
of a mass noun reanalysed as a plural, with a singulative backformed to it:
pease/peas/pea (the original still preserved in the nursery rhyme pease por-
ridge hot, pease porridge cold), and bronze/bronzes (material/objects composed
of the material; compare Greek δίκη/δίκαι (property: justice/instances of the
property: judgments), etc. A count noun may on occasion be used as mass, as
Tennyson’s use of olive as a mass noun: “There to me through all the groves of
olive in the summer glow”, Frater Ave Atque Vale. And a “collective” may be
used alternately with a singular or a plural verb, e.g., English the committee
4 Dale (this volume, n. 20), points out that the scholiast on Oppian, Halieutica 3.81 apparently
mistakes the neuter nom./acc. “plural” γάγγαμα for a dialect form of a feminine nominative
singular γαγγάμη. (Pace Clackson 2007: 108, it is not a condition for this development that the
neuter should be altogether lost as a category, as happened in Romance. See Langslow’s note
7 to Wackernagel 2009: 123 for the development of neuter “plurals” to feminine singulars not
only in Romance but already within Latin itself as early as Ennius.)

has/have, or Greek τὰ τέλη ‘the authorities’ (neuter “plural”), used by the same
author now with a singular verb (e.g. Thucydides 1.58.1), now with a plural
(4.88.1) (see Wackernagel 2009 [1920]: 137). As Wackernagel comments of
Thucydides’ use of a plural verb with τὰ τέλη, this type belongs with the type ὣς
φάσαν ἡ πληθύς ‘thus they spoke, the multitude’, since the idea is of a number
of different people (cf. Monro 1882: 158). In such cases, the perception of the
reference may be of a group of individuals or of the group as an abstract (cf. the
example of a basketball team below). The crucial role of speaker perception
has recently been confirmed by an analysis within a cognitive science para-
digm of count versus mass nouns: cf. Wisniewski on the role of the cognitive
agent, discussed below.
Again, on the traditional view what is seen as the neuter “singular” in *-om
(Greek -ον) was formed as a singulative to the old mass noun in -a, denoting a
portion of the mass (or an instance of an abstraction), and eventually prompt-
ing a reanalysis of the two as singular as opposed to plural. The “singular” in -ον
eventually took over full mass (vel sim.) reference from its association with the
-a form, eventually largely ousting the latter in this function, a process that can
be seen at work from Hesiod and Heraclitus down to Plato and beyond (see
Teffeteller 1987: 393).
As indicated above, count nouns can be used secondarily as mass (e.g., olive)
and mass nouns can be, and frequently are, made secondarily countable
(beer/three beers, etc.). In Greek then (and especially thoroughly in Attic), the
semantically unmarked use of the neuter in -α is generic (mass/abstract/col-
lective); the semantically marked use is particular (and in this function a plural
verb is normally used). As, for example, we use English timber primarily in a
mass sense—we may also say a timber or three timbers, but this particular (as
opposed to generic) use is secondary and semantically marked. Indeed, Eng-
lish timber is a remarkably exact parallel to Greek ξύλα, which always retained
its mass noun force (although in classical Greek it was secondarily countable),
while the singular ξύλον had only specialized uses, e.g. ‘a ship’s mast’, ‘a race-
course turning-post’, etc. Wackernagel 2009 [1920]: 138 comments on the
distinction:
There is an interesting alternation in the constructions taken by δοῦρα:

the verb is singular when it means ‘beams, timber-work’ or when a ‘pile of
spears’ is understood; but when individual spears are intended, when
they do not constitute a mass, then the verb is in the plural, as e.g. at Il.
5.656–657.
The ratio of singular to plural verb with the neuter “plural” in Homer is ap-
proximately three to one; see Monro (1882: 160–161), who observes: “When the

402 Teffeteller
Plural is used, it will generally be found that the word is really Plural in mean-
ing (i.e. that it calls up the notion of distinct units).”
Thus Greek τὰ ζῷα τρέχει, in the absence of semantic marking, means, as
Johannes Schmidt put it (1889: 10 n. 1): “animals run, or rather, the living or
what lives (das Lebendige oder, was lebt) runs.” Similarly, Greek plant names in -α
(as in the ancient Flower song ποῦ μοι τὰ ῥόδα; ποῦ μοι τὰ ἴα; ποῦ μοι τὰ καλᾶ
σέλινα;…, Ath. 14.629e) are not plurals but mass nouns; compare English “pars-
ley, sage, rosemary and thyme.”
That the so-called neuter “plural” in -α was understood to have mass or ab-
stract reference by Plato and the audience he was addressing in his dialogues,
with no possibility of plurality implied, is unequivocally shown by his use of the
type as Form-designators, e.g. αὐτὰ τὰ ὅμοια and τὰ ἀνόμοια (Likeness and Un-
likeness), Parm. 129b; τὰ πολλά (The Many, opposed to τὸ ἕν, The One), Parm.
129b9, d6, and 130b6; τὰ τρία (the number Three), Phaedo 104a-e; αὐτὰ τὰ ἴσα
(Equality) at Phaedo 74c1. For Plato, Forms (εἴδη) do not admit of plurality, as
shown for instance in Socrates’ distinction between εἴδη and what participates
in εἴδη at Parm. 129b. An explicit statement of the novelty of this effort follows at
130b, as Parmenides asks Socrates: “And tell me, was this your own distinction,
separating abstract ideas from what partakes of them?” (see Teffeteller 1987).
Plato’s use of the so-called neuter “plurals” as Form-designators is sufficient
in itself to show that the category could not have been pluralia tantum. Even
when the “singular” in -ον increasingly encroaches on the territory of the -α
form, the latter still retains its original mass/abstract/collective force, as is evi-
dent in the following passages from various Greek philosophers and poets,
whose extensive usage clearly reflects the vernacular.
Heraclitus fr. 126 juxtaposes “plural” and singular in successive clauses, both
forms clearly having generic/abstract/collective/mass reference:
τὰ ψυχρὰ θέρεται, θερμὸν ψύχεται, ὑ<γρὸν> αὐαίνεται, καρφαλέον νοτίζετ<αι>

‘What is cold warms, what is warm cools, what is moist dries, what is
parched becomes wet’.
Singular and plural forms are also juxtaposed in Heraclitus, fr. 10:
συλλάψιες ὅλα καὶ οὐχ ὅλα, συμφερόμενον διαφερόμενον, συνᾷδον διᾷδον·ἐκ

πάντων ἓν καὶ ἐξ ἑνὸς πάντα.
‘συλλάψιες: What is whole and not whole, what is brought together and
brought apart, what is in tune and out of tune: out of everything one and
out of one everything.’
Hesiod, too, uses singular and plural forms of the generic/abstract/collective/

mass adjective with apparent indifference, e.g., Works and Days 216–217: ‘The
road taken to bypass on the other side is superior to reach what is just (τὰ
δίκαια)’; 225–226: ‘They who to strangers and to demos-dwellers give justices
that are straight and do not at all step across out of what is just (δικαίου)’; 280–
281: ‘If it be a man’s wish to declare-in-assembly what is just (τὰ δίκαια), dis-
cerning what it is, on him prosperity does wide-viewing Zeus endow.’
Greek usage even permits singular and “plural” forms of the neuter adjective
to be predicated of the same subject, e.g., Tyrtaeus 7.26: to see the naked body
of an old man slain in battle, clutching his bloody genitals as he gasps out his
life in the dust, is αἰσχρὰ καὶ νεμεσητόν, ‘a thing of shame and a reproach’. In-
deed, as Johannes Schmidt long ago observed (1889: 22–23), it is not at all un-
common to find, from Homer on, neuter “plural” forms in apposition to or
predicated of a subject in the singular,5 e.g.:
χρυσὸς γὰρ ἐρύκακε, δῶρα θεοῖο

‘for the gold stayed it, the gift of the god’, Il. 20.268
χρυσὸν Ἀλεξάνδροιο δεδεγμένος, άγλαὰ δῶρα

‘in hope of receiving gold from Alexander, a glorious gift’, Il. 11.124
ὄρχος / χρύσεος ἦν, κλυτὰ ἔργα περίφρονος Ἡφαίστοιο

‘a row of vines in gold, splendid work of clever Hephaistos’, Hes. Sc. 297
Πάτροκλος ὅς σου πατρὸς ἦν τὰ φίλτατα

‘Patroklos, who was your father’s best beloved’, Soph. Philoc. 434
Αἰσχίνης ὁ Νόθωνος, ἐὼν τῶν Ἐρετριέων τὰ πρῶτα

‘Aeschines, the son of Nothon, being the foremost man among the Eretri-
ans’, Hdt. 6.100
ἀνὴρ Ἀργίλιος, παιδικά ποτε ὢν αὐτοῦ καὶ πιστότατος ἐκείνῳ

‘a man of Argilus, once a favourite of his and most loyal to him’, Thuc.
1.132.6
We may also note such commonly used “plural” forms with singular reference
as τὰ ἀληθῆ ‘the truth’ and τὰ δεξιά ‘the right’. These forms are in fact instances
of the substantivized adjective used with generic as opposed to particular
reference—a point that may be obscured by their very familiarity.
5 Compare the opposite structure in Hittite: singular predicated of neuter “plural” (van den
Hout 2001); for different views in the debate on this Hittite construction, see Harðarson 1987,
1994; Tichy 1993; Prins 1997, among others. Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2
404 Teffeteller
Riddell (1867: 43) pointed out that Plato’s tendency to use “plural” forms
with singular reference “is observable in the case of adjectives which admit of
it”, by which he apparently meant verbal adjectives used impersonally, e.g., Tim.
69a οὐ δυνατὰ [ἐστί] ‘it is not possible’, and he referred to Herodotos and Homer
for the same usage. Thucydides, too, makes frequent use of this construction,
e.g., 1.88 ἐψηφίσαντο πολεμητέα εἶναι ‘they voted that it was necessary to make
war’, 4.1 ἀδύνατα ἦν ‘it was impossible’.
Plural forms with singular reference are very common in the Greek pro-
nouns. Plato’s use of ταῦτα, αὐτά, ἕτερα, ἀμφότερα, πότερα, etc., is documented
by Riddell (1867: 41–43), who observes that “ταῦτα is so constantly thus used,
that it is only remarkable in particular juxtapositions” and he cites, among
other examples, Alcib. I 109c πρὸς ταῦτ᾽ ἄρα, τὸ δίκαιον, τοὺς λόγους ποιήσει;
‘about this then, namely, what is just, you will make speeches?’; Symp. 198b οὐχ
οἷός τ᾽ ἔσομαι οὐδ᾽ ἐγγὺς τούτων ‘I will not be able—nowhere near able—[to
speak so eloquently]’; and Phaedo 62d τάχ᾽ ἂν οἰηθείη ταῦτα, φευκτέον εἶναι ἀπὸ
τοῦ δεσπότου ‘[A foolish man] might perhaps think this, that he ought to run
away from his master.’
3 “Collectives” and “set plurals”: a Matter of Perception
As noted above, Anatolian also shows singular verbal concord with neuter
“plural” subjects, and this construction persists throughout its history, while
increasingly in Hittite nominal predicates to neuter “plural” subjects came to
be attracted into the singular, overtaking the earlier “plural” concord, e.g.
šakuwa=šmet išḫaškanta ‘their eyes (are) blood-shot’ changing to e.g. nu
kūruriḪI.A kuit meggaya nininkán ēšta ‘since enemy troops were mobilized in
large numbers’ (see van den Hout 2001, and see Monro 1882: 159 for word order
constraints in Greek paralleling those of Hittite in singular nominal predica-
tion). The rule of neuter “plural” subject with singular verb is widely observed
across Anatolian. In addition to Hittite, the rule is seen in Palaic, Cuneiform
Luwian, Hieroglyphic Luwian, Lycian, and Lydian (van den Hout 2001; cf. Gertz
1982).
Of particular interest are the tripartite sets of count noun singular and plu-
ral plus neuter “plural” in Hittite (e.g. šuppalaš ‘animal’, šuppaleš, šuppala;
wašpaš ‘article of clothing’, wašpeš, wašpa), Latin (e.g. locus ‘place’, loci ‘single
places’, loca), and Greek (e.g. μηρός ‘thigh’, μηροί, μῆρα). See Watkins 1975: 365;
Eichner 1985; and Wackernagel (2009 [1920]: 122), who comments:

This last word [μῆρα] shows what these different forms are about. The
essential feature of the neuter plural is to denote, not a plurality, but a
mass. μηροί is used of the thighs of separate persons, while μῆρα is used in
the context of sacrifice to denote the mass of heaped-up thighs of the
victims.
Melchert (2011: 398 n. 4), lamenting the use (his own included) of the Hittite
neuter nominative “plural” alpa for ‘cloud’ (beside nominative plural common
gender alpēš) as an example of the type because it is “quite atypical”,
comments:
It happens that when a number of individual clouds come together to

form a set, they tend to become an indistinguishable mass. For most such
nouns this is not true, and the individuality of the parts that make up the
set remains transparent.
Melchert (2014: 257 n. 2) says again of the *-h2 forms:
the traditional label “collective”…leaves the unfortunate impression that

use of the category implies a blurring of the distinctiveness of the indi-
vidual referents. This clearly is false (in Greek κύκλα ‘chariot’ the wheels
of the vehicle remain distinct, as does each path of strewn or poured en-
ticing materials that make up the Hittite composite palša ‘path’ on which
deities are lured). The term “set” plural would be more accurate.
The wheels of a chariot unquestionably remain distinct as individual physical

objects, but the Greek word κύκλα refers to an assemblage of wheels (see e.g.
Cunliffe 1963 s.v. κύκλος). And the example of Hittite alpa, far from being un-
fortunate, is a quintessential example of speaker perception, the role of the
cognitive agent in interpreting perceptual input and designating it with mass
noun reference.
We can call the various forms in question “set plurals” (Melchert 2011: 398;
2014: 257 n. 2)6 or even, with Nussbaum (2014), “delibatives”—but the evidence
6 Designating a “set” of items is one of the uses of these forms, as I indicated in Teffeteller 1987:
396 of the use of τὰ ἴσα in Plato’s Phaedo to designate the set of sensible equals, with (in this
case) αὐτὰ τὰ ἴσα used in contrast to designate the property, i.e., the Form of Equality. But
careful examination of the use of these adjectival forms shows that they are being used not

406 Teffeteller
indicates that the people who used these words viewed them as referring to
mass/abstract entities, not as collections of distinct individual referents or as
multiple discrete instances of mass material. Yes, we can count the individual
thigh pieces that make up the “set” referred to by μῆρα. And we can count the
individual women who make up the chorus of “hazkara-women.” And we can
count (potentially at least) the individual leaves that make up the autumn foli-
age in our neighbourhood or—in theory—across the globe. But that does not
change the fact that we use foliage as a mass noun, not a set plural. And the
same holds for game, etc.
Wisniewski (2010: 169), emphasizing the role of the cognitive agent in inter-
preting perceptual input from the world, states:
The cognitive individuation view straightforwardly implies that percep-

tually similar entities may be conceptualized as individuated or as non-
individuated depending on the cognitive agent. This observation is
important because scholars who suggest that the count-mass noun dis-
tinction is unprincipled, cite pairs of count and mass nouns whose refer-
ents are perceptually similar (oats vs. wheat, Bloomfield, 1933; rice vs.
beans, Gleason, 1969; pebbles vs. gravel, Markman, 1985; noodles vs. spa-
ghetti, McCawley, 1975; foliage vs. leaves, Palmer, 1971; footwear vs. shoes,
fuzz vs. cop, shit vs. turd, fruit vs. vegetable, Ware, 1979). However, these
scholars have focused on the perceptual similarity of these entities with-
out taking into consideration the role of the cognitive agent.
Wisniewski (2010: 179) refers to the suggestion of Wisniewski et al. (2005) “that
the referent of a collective noun is an abstract individual in the sense that it is
not a prototypical individual (cf. chair, woman), but rather a group of multiple
entities conceptualized as a unit or a whole.” As an example, he gives a group
of women who constitute a basketball team: “Although each one can be con-
ceptualized individually as a woman…they are simultaneously conceptualized
as a single, more abstract individual—a team.” He concludes:
On this view, the referents of collective nouns have a scope of predication

which applies to the entities conceptualized as a whole. That is, central
so much to indicate a set of discrete items as the sharing of these items in a specific property,
that is, that they indicate, e.g., not ‘equal things’ but rather what is equal. Note that this use is
also available for the “articular” adjective without the article, e.g., Euthy. 5d10 (see Teffeteller
1987: 389 n. 24).

properties apply to the unit or whole of which the multiple entities are
composed. They are not predicated individually to each entity that com-
prises the unit nor to arbitrary subsets of these entities.
This analysis supports the view of the Hittite designation of a chorus of

“hazkara-women” as semantically “inanimate” in spite of being constituted by
living human beings (see Teffeteller 2015: 171–172).
4 The Pindaric Schema in Greek and Anatolian
The Indo-European languages show various types of lack of number concord

with nonneuter nouns as well. One type in particular, the so-called schema
Pindaricum, has been adduced in support of the denial of diagnostic value of
the τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule (Melchert 2011: 397):
The diagnostic value of singular subject-verb agreement is further weak-

ened by the existence of similar agreement even with animate subjects,
as in the so-called “Pindaric scheme” of Greek and Hittite [which] con-
firms typologically that the number of the subject is not determinative
for the number of the verb.
Greek has two named constructions involving unusual number concord and
word orders of subject and verb. In the schema Alcmanicum, a conjunct subject
straddles a plural or dual verb, e.g. Il. 5.774:
ἦχι ῥοὰς Σιμόεις συμβάλλετον ἠδὲ Σκάμανδρος

where streams Simoeis they-two-merge and Skamandros.
Devine and Stephens (2000: 158–159) see the Greek construction not as an arti-
ficial distraction of an originally continuous structure, but rather as original, in
a nonconfigurational syntax: “the construction originated at a pronominal ar-
gument stage, with the noun phrases as adjuncts to a null pronominal subject.”
As they further observe, on this view we can also explain the disputed disjunc-
tive example at Il. 20.138:
εἱ δέ κ᾽ Ἄρης ἄρχωσι μάχης ἢ Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων

if indeed MODAL-PRT Ares they-should-begin battle or Phoebus
Apollo.

408 Teffeteller
In the schema Pindaricum, on the other hand, a plural subject (masculine or

feminine in Greek, “common” gender in Hittite) occurs with a singular verb.
Split subject coordinates straddling the verb are found in e.g. P.4.126, followed
in this case by a plural participle (see Teffeteller 2001: 276; Devine & Stephens
2000: 158):
ταχέως δ᾽ Ἄ-
δματος ἷκεν καὶ Μέλαμπος
εὐμενέοντες ἀνεψίον.
quickly indeed
Admatos he-came and Melampos,
both [PLURAL]-with-kindly-feelings-for (their) cousin.
But in the “Pindaric schema”, a simple plural masculine or feminine noun (that
is, not a conjunct) with a singular verb (usually in the order of verb preceding
subject) is the more usual construction (and is by no means confined to Pindar),
e.g.:
P. 4.246 τέλεσεν ἃν πλαγαὶ σιδάρου, ‘[a ship] which strokes [pl.] of iron
have fashioned [sg.]’
In considering the construction as found in Hittite, Calvert Watkins suggested

(2000: 2–3) that the Greek construction might have been diffused from Anato-
lian. This is certainly possible, but it is equally possible that it was inherited.
Melchert (2011: 398–399, Appendix 2) lists five examples of the Pindaric
schema in Hittite (quoted here with his translations and his notes to 4 and 5):
1. KUB 19.30 i 17–18 (NH): nu=šmaš ḫalkiuš namma [tepaw]ešzi ‘and fur-
thermore grain supplies were becoming short for them’ (a besieged city).
2. KuT 49: 4–5 (MH/MS): ANA SAG.DU DUMU MUNUSSANGA=wa ūrkiēš
idālawešketta nu=wa kē ūrkiēš kīšandati ‘Signs were coming out unfavor-
ably for the person of the priestess’s son, and these signs occurred.’
3. KUB 8.1 iii 8–9 (NS): ḫēwēš kīša ‘Rains will occur.’
4. KUB 29.1 iv 10–11 (OH/NS): kī=wa wallēš maḫḫan arlipa artari ‘As these
w. stand arlipa.’ This is the only attested Hittite example with a deter-
mined noun.
5. KUB 33.12 iv 16 (OH/NS): n=ašta [anda] MU.KAM.ḪI.A GÍD.DA kī(tta)]
‘In it lie long years.’ (cf. for the verb form KUB 17.10 iv 29–34).
Subsequently, in Appendix 3 (399), he lists twenty-three Greek examples of the
Pindaric schema (following Chantziara 2000). It should be noted that the first

two examples (O.8.8 and O.11.4–6) contain variant readings, not those of the
authoritative Snell-Maehler edition or Race. But for these as well as the re-
maining citations, illumination may be found in Dodds’ note on Euripides’
Bacchae 1350 (Chantziara’s number 17 in Melchert’s Appendix 3): δέδοκται…
τλήμονες φυγαί (with Melchert’s translation: ‘(our) woeful exile is/has been
determined’):
δέδοκται…φυγαί: the so-called σχῆμα Πινδαρικόν…an inappropriate term

which is used to cover several different types of irregularity, some of
them quite natural, others much less so and very possibly due to tex-
tual corruption…. In the present instance we may say that φυγαί is
added in explanatory apposition to the impersonal subject of δέδοκται:
‘It is settled—exile.’ [Kühner-Gerth (i. 68f.) calls φυγαί an exclamation,
denying that σχῆμα Πινδαρικόν genuinely occurs in Attic writers save
with ἔστι, ἦν, γίγνεται, used quasi-impersonally and nearly always
standing first in the clause (cf. the regular ἔστιν οὕς, il est des hommes
qui…). But our sentence is not very different in principle from this
standard type. Bolder and more surprising are Phoen. 349 ἐσιγάθη σᾶς
ἔσοδοι (M V) νύμφας (where ἔσοδοι, like φυγαί here, is singular in mean-
ing); Aesch. Pers. 49 στεῦται (M I and schol.) δ᾽ ἱεροῦ Τμώλου πελάται
(where στεῦται, like δέδοκται here, has no available plural form); fr. trag.
adesp. 191 ἦλθεν δὲ λαοί, ‘there came folk’, quoted by Herodian as a sole-
cism. A different explanation applies to examples like Hel. 1358 ff. μέγα
τοι δύναται…στολίδες κισσοῦ τε…χλόα…ῥόμβου τε…ἔνοσις κτλ., where
a collection of subjects are mentally unified…; in this type the verb
need not come first (Plato, Symp. 188 B, Legg. 925 E, &c.).] (brackets
original—AT)
These are interesting exceptions to the number concord rules, but they are just
that—exceptions. They provide no occasion for giving up the rule of subject-
verb number concord. We are still left with the fact of *-h2 forms taking singu-
lar verbs and the import of that construction.
5 Nonagents and Feminines in PIE
Again, we create the problems we struggle with by naming the forms in ques-
tion “plurals.” They are not plurals; they are simply noncountable “*-h2 forms”
(designating mass nouns, abstracts, and collectives). Van den Hout’s m
eticulous

410 Teffeteller
2001 study shows not that neuter plural subjects take neuter plural nominal
predicates—until Hittite speakers start aligning the predications with overtly
singular verbs—but that *-h2 forms take *-h2 forms, even in the Hittite relative
kue (if indeed reflecting *kwih2; see Kloekhorst 2008: 489–490).
Nussbaum 2014: 274 sees no common properties of the various *-h2 forms:
Feminine, abstract, collective, and neuter plural…are not…associated

with one another because there is some easily and widely recognized se-
mantic or other functional common denominator to which all four of
them can be immediately reduced…. Instead, the basis for treating these
four things as related is a morphological one…
But the common morphological marker can be seen to reflect the “semantic or
other functional” common denominator. What the mass, abstract, and collec-
tive forms share is nonagent status, marked by *-h2 vis-à-vis the agent category
in *-s.
Wackernagel (2009 [1920]: 379) succinctly states the widely held view that in
Indo-European a noun with a neuter form “was never regarded as an agent but
always as affected by the action of the verb…; even when functioning as the
grammatical subject, a neuter intrinsically denoted an object in semantic terms.”
(See further Manoliu 2009 and cf. Dahl 2000, Melchert 2000.) Melchert (2011:
397), with reference to Lazard 1998, notes in passing “the well-known correlation
of agency with animacy, control, and specificity” and identifies the crucial con-
ditioning factor of non-agency in the IE neuter category, but sees this as further
evidence of the separate status of feminines and neuters from the beginning.
On the contrary, the role of nonagent marked by the *-h2 suffix is, on the
view advanced here, precisely the factor that links the “proto-feminine” to this
category. The too often unquestioned view among contemporary scholars that
human females, being “animate”, are therefore necessarily perceived as agents
of action does not take into account different perspectives in different cultures
even in today’s world, never mind in millennia past.
Melchert (2014: 267), following Luraghi (2009a: 128), emphasizes the role of
markedness in the development of the IE feminine gender. Observing that “in
Indo-European the feminine gender is typically formally marked vis-à-vis the
masculine”, he notes that he now suspects that “markedness was decisive in
how the sex-based split of the former animate gender was implemented,” and
continues with the following statement:
While avoiding all sociological speculations regarding the role of men

and women in early and prehistoric Indo-European societies, one can ob-
serve the fact that Indo-European languages, ancient and modern, that

make a morphological distinction in nouns referring to males and fe-

males overwhelmingly do so by use of suffixes marking the feminine.
Markedness, I suspect, is indeed decisive for understanding the categorization

of “feminines” vis-à-vis “masculines” in Proto-Indo-European. A comparison
with the noun classification system of modern Tsez might be illuminating. A
Northeast Caucasian language (Nakh-Daghestanian), Tsez has four classes of
nouns in descending order of agentive function: Class i, reserved for what is
clearly perceived as the agent par excellence, the human male; Class ii for hu-
man females and some inanimates; Class iii for animals and some inanimates;
and Class iv, the residue. The four classes reduce to two in the plural: one for
Class I human males and another for everything else (Polinsky and Comrie
1999). I do not suggest that Proto-Indo-European may have had a noun classifi-
cation system as explicitly detailed as to the perception of agency as that of
Tsez, but I do suspect that PIE noun classification with reference to human
females may have been more similar to Tsez than we, with our modern sensi-
bilities, are comfortable acknowledging. There appears to be a fair amount of
evidence pointing in that direction.
On this view, then, feminines, or “proto-feminines”—those nouns that
would eventually form their own gender, separate from the “masculines” and
the “neuters”—were originally part of the *-h2 category, classified as nonagents.
As for the process of moving out of the *-h2 class to form a new gender, Meillet
was probably right about the change starting in the demonstrative pronoun
(he was usually right, given adequate data). Full access to the category of nouns
denoting full agency, marked with *-s, was not forthcoming (though sporadic
instances of nouns with feminine reference sharing the masculine marker
show up in the daughter languages), but these nouns did acquire the accusa-
tive marker in *-m and thus were distinguished from the members of their
former “neuter” class. An entry point in the demonstrative pronoun meant
that the move out of the nonagent category would have been led by nouns/
pronouns for human females. But tempting as it is to see the acquisition of
linguistic agent status by women in the late Proto-Indo-European period as the
result of a deliberate move in a context of sexual politics, it is much more likely
to have been just a mistake, a failure to observe the distinction between the old
categories—in other words, the usual suspects for language change.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the organizers of the “Hrozny and Hittite” conference for pro-
viding an opportunity for reflection on, and celebration of, the decipherment

412 Teffeteller
of Hittite and the new field of Anatolian studies it gave rise to, as well as the
extension and enrichment of Indo-European studies generally.
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Wisniewski, E.J., Clancy, E. and Tillman, R. (2005) On different types of categories, in:
W. Ahn, R. L Goldstone, B.C. Love, A.B. Markman and P. Wolff (eds.), Categorization
Inside and Outside of the Laboratory: A Festschrift in Honor of Douglas Medin, Wash-
ington, DC: American Psychological Association, 103–126.
Wisniewski, E.J., Lamb, C.A. and Middleton, E.L. (2003). On the conceptual basis for
the count and mass noun distinction, Language and Cognitive Processes 18/5–6,
583–624.

Chapter 21
Sidetisch – Ein Update zu Schrift und Sprache

Christian Zinko and Michaela Zinko
Abstract
This paper deals with Sidetic, which belongs to the Anatolian branch of the Indo-
European language family. The Sidetic inscriptions will be examined and presented
with regard to the other related Anatolian languages. The current study presents a
short overview of problems arising while working with the Sidetic material, sug
gests some new readings and introduces a new stele with Sidetic signs found in
2010.
Keywords
Sidetic – Sidetic script – Anatolian languages – Late Luvian
0 Vorbemerkungen
Im Jahr 1915 gab es zwei bemerkenswerte Ereignisse in der Wissenschaft: am

25. November 1915 legte Albert Einstein seine Allgemeine Relativitätstheorie der
Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin vor und am 15. November
fixierte Bedřich Hrozný mit seiner Publikation “Die Lösung des hethitischen
Problems. Ein vorläufiger Bericht” in den Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-
Gesellschaft zu Berlin die Geburtsstunde der Hethitologie.
Zu diesem Zeitpunkt galt es, das Schriftsystem—und hier v.a. die Schreib-
traditionen und Konventionen der hethitischen Keilschrift—und das sprach-
liche System des Hethitischen zu erforschen und zu beschreiben. Diese
Unterfangen sind bis zum heutigen Tage im Großen und Ganzen recht gut
gelöst, wenngleich es noch Detailfragen zu klären gibt. Das Augenmerk vieler
Forscher richtet sich nun verstärkt auch auf die entfernteren Verwandten des
Hethitischen, auf die sogenannten jungluwischen Sprachen, in unserem Falle
auf das Sidetische im Süden Kleinasiens, auf dem Gebiet des Pamphylischen,
in und um den Ort Side, dem heutigen Selimiye, im Kreis Manavgat.

Sidetisch – Ein Update zu Schrift und Sprache 417
Im Rahmen der Ausgrabungen des Instituts für Archäologie der Universität

Graz in Side wurden in den letzten Jahren die sidetischen Inschriften, die im
Museum von Side aufbewahrt und ausgestellt sind, von den Autoren unter-
sucht und dokumentiert.1
Johannes Nollé hat das sidetische Material in seinen Publikationen, v.a.
2001, bereits vorgestellt, warum nun die Neubearbeitung des sidetischen Mate-
rials? Nollé arbeitet als Epigraphiker vorwiegend mit dem griechischen und
lateinischen Material in Side, seine Bearbeitung der autochtonen sidetischen
Inschriften erfolgt aus griechischer Sicht, ohne Berücksichtigung des anatoli-
schen Hintergrunds der sidetischen Sprache. Sidetisch gehört zur Gruppe der
jungluwischen Sprachen und muss im Rahmen des Anatolischen und seines
indogermanischen Hintergrunds betrachtet werden.
Aus diesem Grunde ist eine neuorientierte Überarbeitung und Beurteilung
der sidetischen Inschriften notwendig, wobei dieses Vorhaben von uns auf der
Grundlage der folgenden Schritte vorgenommen wird:
(1) Neugruppierung der sidetischen Inschriften
(2) Dokumentation der sidetischen Schriftzeichen und Erstellung einer
Paläographie
(3) Darstellung des phonologischen und morphologischen Systems des
Sidetischen
(4) Erstellung eines Lexikons des Sidetischen auf Basis der publizierten In-
schriften und mit Verweis auf verwandtes anatolisches Material
(5) (Neu-)Edition der sidetischen Textzeugnisse
Diese Punkte sind aktuell in Arbeit, in diesem Beitrag sollen einige wenige Fra-
gestellungen bzw. Schwierigkeiten angesprochen und dargestellt werden.
1 Neuordnung des sidetischen Corpus
Bis Nollé 2001 hat sich eine gewisse Reihung des sidetischen Textmaterials he-
rausgebildet, die dann von Nollé in seiner Publikation in eine bestimmte Ab-
folge gebracht wurde. Diese tradierte Abfolge des sidetischen Materials wird
von uns nicht übernommen, weil es u.E. sinnvoller erscheint, die Texte nach
inhaltlichen Kriterien zu gruppieren.
Wir schlagen deshalb folgende Neuordnung vor:
1 Projekttitel (Publikation in Arbeit): Christian Zinko, Michaela Zinko and Alfredo Rizza, Side-
tisch. Schrift, Grammatik, Texte, Lexikon. – Das Inschriftenmaterial wird fotographisch
dokumentiert.

418 Zinko and Zinko
i. Inschriftliches (Display)
1. Bilinguen sidetisch – griechisch
S I.1.1 Weihinschrift (“Artemon-Bilingue”) Museum Side S1

S I.1.2 Weihinschrift (“Apollonios- Museum Side S2
Bilingue”)
S I.1.3 Lyrbe-Text (“Euempolos-Bilingue”) Museum Antalya S6
2. Monolingual sidetisch
S I.2.1 Längere Strategen-Weihung Museum Side S3

S I.2.2 Kürzere Strategen-Weihung Museum Side S4
S I.2.3 Inschrift auf Randstück eines Museum Side; Depot S7
Gefäßes
S I.2.4 Inschrift auf einem Herakles-Relief Museum Side; Depot S8
S I.2.5 Namenliste Museum Side S9
S I.2.6 Stele aus Lyrbe (Neufund 2010) Museum Side; Depot S 13
ii. Kleinobjekte
S II.1.1 Stimmtäfelchen aus Bronze Cabinet des médailles, S5

Paris
S II.2.1 Skarabäus Privatbesitz S 12
iii. Münzlegenden
S iii Münzen Museum Side u.a.; S 10

Münzhändler
iv. Varia
S* Charaktere des Mnemon von Side S 11

2 Dokumentation der sidetischen Schriftzeichen und Erstellung

einer Paläographie
Das sidetische Textcorpus ist in einer eigenständigen, linksläufigen Schrift

überliefert, die wie die übrigen Schriftsysteme der jungluwischen Sprachen
eine Alphabetschrift darstellt.
Ein großes Problem ergibt sich bei der Umschrift der Zeichen und deren laut-
lichen Bestimmung. Nollé (2001: 629) hat die in den sidetischen Steininschrif-
ten belegten Zeichen neu geordnet und somit die Sortierung von Neumann
1978: 875 revidiert. Diese Neuordnung ist in der Folge angenommen und über-
nommen worden, so von Pérez Orozco 2007: 142. Nun muss aber darauf hinge-
wiesen werden, dass bei Neumann manche Zeichenformen wesentlich genauer
wiedergegeben sind als bei Nollé, vgl. etwa das Zeichen für <a>, das in den In-
schriften in der Form erscheint, von Nollé aber mit wiedergegeben wird.
Besonderes Augenmerk muss auf das Zeichen Nollé 15 gerichtet werden,
das von Nollé als Spirant s bestimmt wird, von Neumann mit dem Zeichen ś
abgebildet und von Pérez Orozco als Frikativ charakterisiert und mit der
Schreibung s wiedergegeben wird; dieses ist aber nicht die einzige Spirans im
sidetischen Lautinventar, denn es gibt das Zeichen , das von Nollé mit z (Spi-
rant), von Neumann mit s und von Pérez Orozco mit ś transkribiert wird. Nicht
außer Acht gelassen werden dürfen Umschriften sidetischer Texte von Eichner
(1985, 1988 und 1993), der zwar keine explizite Zeichentabelle präsentiert, sich
aber offensichtlich an den Vorschlägen Neumanns orientiert, also = s, = ś
(siehe Tabelle 21.1).
Um die Lautwerte der Zeichen zu bestimmen, orientierte bzw. orientiert
man sich vor allem an den Namen in den Bilinguen und an griechischen
Fremd- bzw. Lehnwörtern. Es ergaben und ergeben sich im Laufe der Erfor-
schung eines Schriftsystems einer noch unzulänglich erschlossenen Sprache
aus dem Gang der Arbeit einzelner ForscherInnen immer wieder Notationen,
die nicht “passend” gewählt sind, weshalb diese—solange sie noch nicht zu
sehr etabliert sind—modifiziert bzw. ersetzt werden sollten. Das ist auch im
Falle des Sidetischen bei der Umschrift der beiden Sibilanten zu beobachten.
Tabelle 21.1
Nollé Neumann Pérez Orozco Eichner
N 14 z s ś s
N 15 s ś s ś

420 Zinko and Zinko
Ein unmarkierter Laut in der Umschrift bezeichnet, wenn man die Keil-
schrift als Beispiel nimmt, sozusagen die Standardform und -lautung eines Zei-
chens, mit Diakritika (Akut, Gravis und Indexzahlen) werden die Varianten
eines Zeichens markiert, die unter Umständen auch andere Lautungen haben
können, aber nicht haben müssen.
In Bezug auf die beiden Sibilanten kann man allein von der Form der Zei-
chen her feststellen, dass das zweite Zeichen N 15 so aussieht, als ob es eine
Doppelung des Zeichens N 14 wäre, und zwar mit einer Verbindungslinie, die
von rechts unten nach links oben geht, entsprechend dem zu erwartenden
Schriftzug einer linksläufigen Schreibschrift-Variante:
←
← Schriftrichtung
Daneben ist auch die Verteilung der beiden Zeichen zu berücksichtigen. Han-
delt es sich dabei um graphische Varianten oder stehen verschiedene Lautun-
gen dahinter?
Folgende Vertretungen der Sibilanten können angeführt werden:
<s> (N 14)
– Endung des Sg.Gen. -s:2
tʰanpiys (Αθηνοβιου), pordors (Απολλοδωρου), poloniyas
(Απολλωνιου), sdit₂s (Σιδιδος), diunesiyas (pam. Διϝονυσος, koin.
Διονυσος)
– Prät.Sg.3. -s:
eyas “siegte (??)”, ews “machte”, das “widmete”, tas “stellte auf”
– Sonstige:
istratag (dor. στραταγος), sdit₂s, diunesiyas, ak/basa (“sein”; Pl.
Akk.), osad (“dort”), sa (“und”), wosb/kiyi (GN; Sg.Dat. (?)), isto
(PN)
<s₂> (N 15)
– Resultat eines kombinatorischen Lautwandels:
anatol. /ss/ zwischen Vokalen > sidet. <s₂>:
mas₂ara (Pl.Dat.; S I.1.2 [S 2]) < *massaras; mas₂aras₂(e)3 (Pl.
Akk.; S I.2.1. [S 3]) < *massarassan
Hajnal (2003: 198) erklärt mas₂aras₂e < */°āndz/ < */āns/
2 Hajnal (2003: 198) erklärt s als (1) Produkt eines kombinatorischen Lautwandels */Vs(s)V°/ >
sid. (V)s, so in pordor-s, poloniy-as; (2) sid. s < */k̂/: sa “und” < */k̂o/, vgl. lyk. se.
3 Ob am Ende der Zeile 1 wirklich mas₂aras₂e zu lesen ist, wie Nollé (2001: 635) in Anschluss an
Ševoroškin 1975: 1: 162f. vorschlägt, ist mehr als fraglich, eventuelle Zeichenreste sind nicht
eindeutig.

– anatol. /s/ im Anlaut > sidet. <s₂>:

*s₂idua-, ON “Side” (Pérez Orozco 2007: 133), so nur auf
Münzen:
s₂iduawnis, s₂iduawñis usw.; in dieser Position nur im ON Side
(mit Ableitungen) und nur auf Münzen
– außer im Wort für ‛Gottheit’ mas₂ara- (S I.1.2 und S I.2.1) ist <s₂>
sonst nur in den Formen yewas₂e (“Waffen” (??)), ak/bas₂e
(“Feind” (??)), opek/biyas₂e (Adv.), znekars₂ (VAdj.; “verkünden”
(?)) belegt, die alle nur in der längeren Strategen-Weihung S I.2.1
[S 3]) vorkommen; es handelt sich bei mas₂aras₂(e), yewas₂e
und ak/bas₂e um eine Pluralendung -s₂e, die in opek/biyas₂e als
Adverbialform vorliegt; wenn znek/bars₂ eine Partizipialform
(Sg.Nom.?) ist (vgl. lyd. Partizipien auf -rs₂ (Gusmani 1964: 42
§28)), so müßte ein Ausgang */°rVns/ o.ä. zugrunde liegen. Ab-
gesehen von mas₂ara- sind die anderen Lexeme Hapax legome-
na bzw. sind diese nur in der längeren Strategen-Weihung
belegt, und ein anatolischer Anschluss ist noch nicht gesichert.
Wir nehmen an, dass das Zeichen <s> (N 14) den aus dem Proto-Anatolischen
/ Indogermanischen ererbten Sibilanten */s/ fortsetzt, während —das man
zur Unterscheidung mit dem Zeichen <s₂> (N 15) wiedergeben kann, davon
vielleicht phonetisch unterschieden—ursprünglich ein Allophon (?!) war. Da-
mit ist die Transkription von Pérez Orozco 2007 obsolet und wird von uns nicht
verwendet. Vielleicht handelt es sich bei <s₂> um die graphische Wiedergabe
einer Fortis, was plausibel erscheint, wenn z.B. anatol. /ss/ zugrunde liegt. Auf
den Münzen könnte man mit dem ‛komplexeren’ Zeichen den Wortanfang
markiert haben (siehe Tabelle 21.2).
Dieselbe Problematik liegt auch in der Umschrift des Lydischen vor, wo “s
und s₂ […] unglückliche, sogar abwegige Transkriptionen” (Gusmani 1964: 34
§14) sind. Im Lydischen wird s fast immer nach i geschrieben, womit vielleicht
wirklich eine Art palataler Sibilant bezeichnet wird (vgl. im Altindischen retro-
flexes ṣ nach i, e usw. statt s). Im Sidetischen lässt sich keine ähnliche Verteilung
Tabelle 21.2
Nollé Neumann Eichner Pérez Orozco Zinko
N 14 z s s ś s
N 15 s ś ś s s2

422 Zinko and Zinko
wie im Lydischen ablesen, da s₂ nicht nach i belegt ist, sondern nur intervoka-
lisch in der Stellung s₂ / a _ a bzw. s₂ / a _ e.
Ein weiteres Problem sind auch die Zeichen N 23 und N 24 , die von Pérez
Orozco 2007 als <k> und gelesen werden. Eichner allerdings nimmt die
Lautwerte /b/ und /k/ an (siehe Tabelle 21.3).
Wir lassen diese Frage an dieser Stelle offen, denn das Material muss noch
vollständig überprüft werden, geben aber einen ersten Vorschlag bei der Inter-
pretation des Neufundes weiter unten (siehe Tabelle 21.4).
Tabelle 21.3
N 23 Konsonant b b k b/k
N 24 Konsonant k k b k/b
Fig. 21.1 Abschrift Zinko M. 2016

Diese Beispiele sollen aufgezeigt haben, dass es vor allem auf dem Gebiet
der Schrift bzw. bei der Interpretation der Schriftzeichen noch sehr viel zu
überarbeiten gibt. Ohne eine Neubearbeitung und ohne eine Neubeurteilung
einer jeden sidetischen Inschrift ist es nicht möglich, eine korrekte Dokumen-
tation der sidetischen Schriftzeichen samt korrekter lautlicher Zuordnung zu
erhalten.
Stellvertretend für diese Problematik kann die Zeichenliste in Fig. 21.1 an-
geführt werden, deren Graphien und Lautungen allein aus der Interpretation
der Inschrift S I.2.5 “Namenliste” gewonnen wurde.4
3 Darstellung des phonologischen und morphologischen Systems des

Sidetischen
Eine sinnvolle und vollständige Darstellung des phonologischen Systems ist

erst nach der Beseitigung aller Unklarheiten, die die Schrift noch bietet, sinn-
voll. Zur Darstellung des morphologischen Systems sei zur Zeit auf die knappe
Darstellung bei Pérez Orozco 2007: 134–136 verwiesen, die im Rahmen unserer
Beschäftigung mit den sidetischen Inschriften und nach Aufarbeitung des
Sprachmaterials von uns adaptiert wird.
4 Erstellung des Lexikons des Sidetischen
Die Erstellung eines kompletten Lexikons des Sidetischen geht Hand in Hand
mit der Aufarbeitung der sidetischen Texte und umfasst zur Zeit ca. 50
Einträge.
5 (Neu)Edition der sidetischen Textzeugnisse
Eine Neuedition der sidetischen Textzeugnisse empfiehlt sich aus verschiede-

nen Gründen. Die bisherigen Fotos in den früheren Publikationen, vor allem
von Brixhe, Neumann usw. überzeugen nicht immer in der Qualität, Nollé
bringt nur Abschriften, aber keine Fotos, außer dem Verweis, dass sie in seinem
4 Siehe dazu Zinko 2016.

424 Zinko and Zinko
Privatbesitz sind. Leider haben wir selbst von zwei Inschriften noch keine neu-
en Fotos machen können:
– Inschrift S I.1.3 (Lyrbe-Text, sog. “Euempolos-Bilingue”; Museum Antalya)
Die Bilingue wurde 1972 bei den Ausgrabungen von Jale İnan in Şıhlar/ L yrbe
gefunden und dann in das Museum von Antalya gebracht. Die Erstveröf-
fentlichung erfolgte durch Frau M. Darga. Sie hat für alle weiteren Bemü-
hungen eine gute Grundlage geschaffen. Im Museum von Antalya hat ihn
Brixhe im Jahre 1975 gesehen, konnte aber damals infolge des Zustandes der
Oberfläche noch keine sicheren Ergebnisse gewinnen.
– Inschrift S II.1.1 (Stimmtäfelchen aus Bronze; Cabinet des médailles,
Paris).
Die Edition von Brixhe 1969 ist in diesem Falle ausreichend, denn die Abbil-
dung der Publikation ist einwandfrei und gut lesbar.
Darüber hinaus ist es unerläßlich, die anderen Inschriften nochmals genau zu
“vermessen”—das wurde bei den aktuellen Arbeiten im Museum von Side
deutlich. Die Abzeichnungen von Nollé vermitteln den Eindruck, dass an man-
chen Objekten in den vergangenen Jahren mehr zu lesen gewesen sein könnte
als heute. Problematische Lesungen werden bei Nollé nicht als solche
markiert.
(a) Als erstes Beispiel dafür kann die Inschrift des sog. Herakles-Reliefs (S
I.2.4) genannt werden, die wir erstmals 2014 und 2015 unter guten Bedingun-
gen untersuchen durften.
Der Inschriftenstein—und mit ihm die Inschrift—hat ein wechselhaftes
Schicksal erfahren. Nollé (2001: 642) beschreibt sie als im Garten des Museums
befindlich, heute wird der Stein im Depot verwahrt, zeigte bei den Untersu-
chungen aber starke Beschädigungen. Die Jahre im Garten—hier war die In-
schrift sehr nahe am Boden, wie noch Erd- und Bewuchsreste zeigen—und die
Fig. 21.2 Abschrift Nollé 2001: 640

Fig. 21.3 Abschrift Zinko M. 2016
Fig. 21.4 Foto Zinko 2015

426 Zinko and Zinko
Fig. 21.5 S I.2.1 und S I.2.2 (Foto Zinko 2015)
unglückliche Lagerung im Depot haben ihre Spuren hinterlassen. Auf jeden

Fall zeigen die Abschriften von Nollé (1988: 59–62, 2001: 642; siehe Fig. 21.2)
mehr als heute noch zu sehen ist (siehe Fig. 21.3 und Fig. 21.4).
Und im Vergleich dazu Abschrift und Foto aktuell:
(b) Auch bei der sogenannten ‛Längeren Strategen-Weihung’ gibt es gewisse
Probleme. Der Kalksteinblock, der die Inschrift trägt, wurde 1964 bei der ersten
Freilegung des sog. Ost-Tores gefunden; er war in 15 Fragmente zerbrochen, die
wieder zusammengesetzt wurden. Es befinden sich zwei Inschriften auf dem
Block, nämlich S I.2.1, die “Längere Strategen-Weihung”, und S I.2.2, die “Kürze-
re Strategen-Weihung” (siehe Fig. 21.5).
S I.2.2 ist mit einem Rahmen deutlich von S I.2.1 abgesetzt und an deren
linken Rand später hinzugefügt worden. Ob die Rahmenlinie den letzten Buch-
staben der ersten Zeile von S I.2.1 durchschneidet ist unklar, denn dieser letzte
fragliche Buchstabe steht deutlich außerhalb der quasi sehr genau in Blocksatz
gefertigten Inschrift S I.2.1. Das betreffende Zeichen kann entweder als <e>
interpretiert werden oder—weil das Zeichen wesentlich schwächer gefertigt
ist als die übrigen Zeichen—als eine Verschränkung im Sinne von <X>. Mit
Hilfe dieses “Verschränkungs-Zeichens” könnten die beiden Inschriften mitei-
nander verbunden werden, die von verschiedenen Personen und zu verschie-
denen Zeiten in Auftrag gegeben wurden.
Für die Lesung mit e, also mas₂aras₂e, würde sprechen, dass <s₂> im absolu-
ten Auslaut sonst nicht belegt ist, wohl aber in der Stellung zwischen a und e.
Vielleicht wurde das e, dass der Steinmetz offensichtlich vergessen hat, später
hinzugefügt und mit der Abgrenzung der kürzeren Inschrift überschrieben.
Neumann (1978: 874), Eichner (1993: 127) und Hajnal (2003: 202) lesen mas₂aras₂
am Ende der ersten Zeile—wahrscheinlich lag allen derselbe Abklatsch
vor.
Die Annahme, dass der Inhalt der beiden Inschriften mit dem ebenfalls dort
gefundenen Waffenfries zu tun habe, stimmt nach Auskunft unserer Archäo-
logen nicht, der gemeinsame Fundort sei zufällig.

(c) Im Depot des Museums von Side befindet sich eine Grabstele, die 2010
als Oberflächenfund in Lyrbe/Seleukia in der Nähe einer illegalen Grabungs-
grube gefunden wurde (siehe Fig. 21.7).
Die Stele aus weißem Marmor ist 135 cm hoch und 10 cm dick; eine glatte
Fläche von 104 x 28 cm wäre beschriftbar. Da außer einigen sidetischen Schrift-
zeichen keinerlei Beschriftung erkennbar ist, nimmt man an, daß die Stele ur-
sprünglich bemalt war. Eine spezielle Untersuchung zum Nachweis einer
etwaigen Bemalung wurde u.W. nicht vorgenommen.
Wiederverwendungen von bereits “fertigen Artefakten” ist öfters beobacht-
bar, man vergleiche die Inschrift S I.1.2 (Weihinschrift “Apollonios-Bilingue”;
siehe Foto unter Fig. 21.6). “Die Verwendung alter Basen (und Statuen) ist eine
oft geübte Praxis, besonders am Ende der Republik bzw. zu Beginn der Kaiser-
zeit und in byzantinischer Zeit, gerade in Städten, wo der Marmor importiert
werden mußte […]” (Nollé 2001: 289).
Bei der 2010 gefundenen Grabstele erstreckt sich die vorhandene zweizeili-
ge sidetische Inschrift über eine Fläche von 200 x 100mm und weist eine
Fig. 21.6 S I.1.2 (Foto Zinko 2016)

428 Zinko and Zinko
Fig. 21.7 S I.2.6 (Neufund 2010) Foto Zinko 2015
Fig 21.8 Zeile 1
Fig 21.9 Zeile 1
uchstabenhöhe von 35mm auf. Form und Duktus der Zeichen dieser Inschrift
B
weisen einen ganz anderen Charakter auf als die in den bisher bekannten Fun-
den, wo die Zeichen in der Regel sehr sorgfältig gearbeitet sind.
Dieser Neufund erweckt den Eindruck, als hätte sich der Schreiber in einem
Graffito verewigt. Die Zeichenführung und die Zeichenform ist flüssiger und
kursiver, und der gesamte Texte ist nachlässig und schlampig auf der Stele pla-
ziert. Aufgrund dieser Tatsachen gestaltet sich auch die Lesung der Inschrift
recht schwierig.
Unser erster Vorschlag dazu:
Zeile 1 (siehe Fig. 21.8 und Fig. 21.9) beginnt mit dem Personennamen isto,5
der aus der Inschrift S I.2.5 (Namenliste) bereits bekannt ist. Dort ist der Name
im Genitiv Singular istos belegt. Damit dokumentiert unsere Inschrift S I.2.6
nun den Nominativ Singular: isto-Ø.
Der zweite Teil der Zeile 1 bereitet Probleme. Wir lesen die Zeichenfolge als
<r> – <e> – <m> – <r>
Pérez Orozco (2007: 130) vermutet in der Inschrift S I.2.4 Personennamen, die
mit r- beginnen—diese sind aber leider im beschädigten Kontext überliefert:
S I.2.4 r(.)e und r(…)rie
Möglicherweise liegt hier ebenfalls ein Personenname vor, der mit re° anlau-
tet. Die zwei nächsten Zeichen sind als <m> und <r> zu lesen, was dann remr
ergäbe—die Genitivendung fehlt (remr[s]). remr erscheint in S I.2.5 als zweiter
Namensbestandteil bei tokañremar, womit unsere Lesung und Interpretation
eine gute Stütze findet.
In Zeile 2 (siehe Fig. 21.10 und Fig. 21.11) kann wiederum ein Name im Nomi-
nativ Singular bestimmt werden, dem dann ein Genitiv folgt. Wir lesen zu
Beginn von Zeile 2 den Namen tk/biat im Nominativ Singular. Zgusta (1964: 507)
notiert den Namen τβιου (Gen.Sg.) in Kilikien, womit hier—wenn man für das
Zeichen N 24 den Lautwert /b/ annimmt—ein vergleichbarer Namenstamm
Fig 21.10 Zeile 2
Fig 21.11 Zeile 2
5 isto ist nach Peréz Orozco 2007: 129 ein griechischer PN, der mit einem Theonym Ἑστία ge-
bildet ist, vgl. Ἑστιαῖος; allerdings ist auch eine Verbindung mit anatol. *istuwa- durchaus
möglich.
430 Zinko and Zinko
Tabelle 21.4
N 23 Konsonant b b k k
N 24 Konsonant k k b b
vorliegt. Mit tbiat finden wir einen PN, der vom Stamm dem Namen kwars₂at—
ebenfalls Nominativ Singular—der Inschrift S I.2.4 entspricht. Damit ist ein
anatolischer Anschluss gefunden und der Lautwert für N 24 kann in diesem
Falle als /b/ interpretiert werden (siehe Tabelle 21.4).
Nach der Genealogieabfolge in sidetischen Inschriften ›Name des Sohnes
im Nominativ Singular – Name des Vaters im Genitiv Singular‹ erwarten wir
uns im nächsten Wort, das auf s endet, einen Genitiv Singular, d.h. wir können
einen Namen mems identifizieren, der bis dato im Sidetischen nicht belegt ist,
aber mit dem in Pisidien belegten Namen Μεμμας (Zgusta 1964: 309) vergleich-
bar ist. Dasselbe Namenelement könnte auch im lykischen Personennamen
mẽmruwi vorliegen (siehe dazu Melchert 1993: 104).
Da die Inschrift auf dieser Stele u.E. wie ein Graffito erscheint, nehmen wir
an, daß sich hier zwei Sideter “verewigt” haben, weshalb wir als Lesung
vorschlagen:
Zeile 1 isto remr “Isto, [Sohn] des Remr”

Zeile 2 tbiat mems “Tbiat, [Sohn] des Mem”
Damit entspricht das Graffito auf dieser Marmorstele der Struktur des sideti-
schen Namenformulars bzw. der Struktur der Genealogie, wie sie aus den In-
schriften S I1.1-S 1.2.5 bekannt ist und folgendermaßen lautet:
Idionym (Nominativ) – Patronym (Genitiv)

Zeile 1 isto remr[s]
Zeile 2 tbiat mems
6 Zusammenfassung
Die vorliegende kurze Darstellung sollte die Notwendigkeit eines “Updates”

des sidetischen Inschriftenmaterials deutlich gemacht haben.

Sowohl die Bestimmung der Lautwerte der Schriftzeichen als auch die Er-
arbeitung der Grammatik des Sidetischen muss anhand der Ergebnisse aller
Inschriften gemeinsam und vergleichend erarbeitet werden. Darüber hinaus
muss das sidetische Sprachmaterial mit Berücksichtigung des luwischen und
gesamtanatolischen Sprachhintergrundes untersucht und bearbeitet und
durch Erkenntnisse der Indogermanistik ergänzt werden.
Literatur
Brixhe, C. (1969) Un nouveau document épichorique de Sidé, Kadmos 8, 143–151.

Darga, M. (1967) Side dili ile yazısı hakkında notlar ve Side doğu şehir kapısında bulunan
yazıt (Notes sur la langue et l’écriture de Side. Inscription découverte à la porte ori-
entale), Belleten 31, 49–66.
Eichner, H. (1985) Malwa, eine hieroglyphenluwisch-sidetische Wortgleichung, MSS
45, 5–21.
Eichner, H. (1988) os-, eine sidetisch-lydische Wortgleichung? Kadmos 27, 44–56.
Eichner, H. (1993) Probleme von Vers und Metrum in epichorischer Dichtung Altklein-
asiens, in: G. Dobesch and G. Rehrenböck (eds.), Die epigraphische und
altertumskundliche Erforschung Kleinasiens: Hundert Jahre Kleinasiatische Kommis-
sion der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Akten des Symposiums vom
23. bis 25. Oktober 1990, Wien: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften,
97–169.
Gusmani, R. (1964) Lydisches Wörterbuch, mit grammatischer Skizze und Inschriften-
sammlung, Heidelberg: Winter.
Hajnal, I. (2003) Jungluwisch – eine Bestandsaufnahme, in: M. Giorgeri et al. (eds.),
Licia e Lidia prima dell’ellenizzazione. Atti del convegno internationale, Roma 11–12
ottobre 1999. Roma: Consiglio nazionale delle ricerche, 187–205.
Hrozný, B. (1915) Die Lösung des hethitischen Problems. Ein vorläufiger Bericht, Mit-
teilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft zu Berlin, 17–50.
Neumann, G. (1978) Die sidetische Schrift, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di
Pisa 8, 869–886.
Nollé, J. (1988) Mitteilungen zu sidetischen Inschriften, Kadmos 27, 57–62.
Nollé, J. (2001) Side im Altertum: Geschichte und Zeugnisse. Band II. Griechische und
lateinische Inschriften (5–16) – Papyri – Inschriften in sidetischer Schrift und S prache –
Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen – Konkordanzen – Epigraphische Indices [Inschrif-
ten griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 44], Bonn: Habelt.
Pérez Orozco, S. (2007) La lengua sidética. Ensayo de síntesis, Kadmos 46, 125–142.
Ševoroškin, V. (1975) Zur sidetischen Schrift, Kadmos 14, 154–166.
Zinko, Ch. (2016) Die sidetische Namenliste (S. I.2.5), in: H. Marquardt, S. Reichmuth
and J. García Trabazo (eds.), Anatolica et Indogermanica. Studia linguistica in

432 Zinko and Zinko
honorem Johannis Tischler septuagenarii dedicata [IBS 155], Innsbruck: Institut für
Sprachen und Literaturen der Universität Innsbruck, 359–374.
Zinko, M., Zinko, Ch. and Rizza, A. (2017) Bemerkungen zur sidetischen Schrift – eine
aktuelle Bestandsaufnahme. Mit einem Appendix von Alfredo Rizza. In: P. Cotticel-
li-Kurras and A. Rizza (eds.), Variation within and among Writing Systems. Concepts
and Methods in the Analysis of Ancient Written Documents [LautSchriftSprache –
ScriptandSound 1], Wiesbaden: Reichert, 371–384.

Part 3
The Hittites and Their Neighbors

Chapter 22
The LÚ.MEŠ SAG and Their Rise to Prominence

Tayfun Bilgin
Abstract
In the Hittite court, the term LÚ.MEŠ SAG refers to a group of officials who rose to
prominence in the final century of the state’s existence. In recent decades, the nature
and functions of these officials of the Hittite court have been subject to multiple stud-
ies, the results of which are that there is no consensus regarding several aspects. Two
main issues concern the physical state of these men and the extent of their involve-
ment with the Hittite nobility. While some claim that the LÚ.MEŠ SAG were exclu-
sively eunuchs (i.e., castrated individuals) and were not part of the Hittite elite, others
reject this notion and instead suggest that by definition these officials of the Hittite
court were not eunuchs, at least not exclusively, and they were generally members of
the Hittite nobility. This paper presents a survey of the available evidence to suggest a
combination of these varying opinions while analyzing the circumstances to explain
the sudden rise in visibility of the LÚ.MEŠ SAG during the reign of Tudḫaliya iv.
Keywords
Hittite officials – LÚ.MEŠ SAG – EUNUCHUS 2 – Tudḫaliya iv
The contributions of Bedřich Hrozný, one of the founding fathers of Hittitolo-

gy, opened the way for generations of scholars in this field. As such, I assume
that any subject related to Hittitology would be suitable to present in his mem-
ory, and thus I am pleased to offer the following study of the Hittite officials
referred to with the designation LÚ(.MEŠ) SAG.
It has been already established that ša rēši, translated literally as “(he) of the
head”, is the Akkadian equivalent of the Sumerian term LÚ SAG.1 Hawkins
(2002: 217) points out that in the equation LÚ SAG = ša rēši known from a Sul-
tantepe vocabulary text, LÚ may not be a determinative but rather the equiva-
lent of ša, and therefore should not be omissible. This in turn would require
1 CAD/R: 292.

436 Bilgin
the term to be written as LÚ SAG instead of LÚSAG. While that may be the
proper Mesopotamian orthography and will be adopted in this paper, various
examples regarding Hittite officials (such as the sporadic omission of LÚ,2 or
the occasional presence of ša before or after LÚ3) suggest that the Hittites did
not necessarily have this same understanding; they perhaps treated LÚ as a
determinative and the entire phrase as a logogram for the underlying Hittite
word.4 The Hittite equivalent of the term is not known, since all attestations in
Hittite texts are written with the Sumerian term. Digraphic attestations of the
term confirm its hieroglyphic equation as EUNUCHUS 2 (L. 254).5 Another hi-
eroglyphic sign, EUNUCHUS (L. 474), which is known only from first-
millennium sources, should be analyzed independently of EUNUCHUS 2.6
Therefore, it will be left out of this study, which will focus only on Hittite Em-
pire-period officials.
In the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary, the translation of ša rēši is given as “at-
tendant, soldier, official”, with a secondary meaning of “eunuch”, which is clear-
ly suggested by some attestations from Middle Assyrian and Neo-Assyrian
sources.7 Numerous attestations indicate that LÚ SAG defines a class of offi-
cials in the Hittite court. In recent decades, the nature and functions of these
officials of the Hittite court have been subject to multiple studies that have
reached no consensus regarding (1) their physical status, as to whether they
were literally eunuchs (i.e., castrated individuals), and (2) their position within
the court, particularly their connections to the royal family.8 Since this paper
defends the suggestion that the LÚ.MEŠ SAG were not exclusively eunuchs,
whenever needed the examples of others will be followed in referring to these
2 Among numerous attestations of Anuwanza with the title LÚ SAG, LÚ is omitted several
times: KUB 7.1 iv 16, KUB 7.25 rev. 9’, KUB 35.41 iv 6’, KUB 43.77 rev. 3’, and possibly fhl
16:2’–3’. See also Tuwattaziti as LÚ S[AG] and SAG in KBo 42.28 rev. vi 4’ and KBo 21.42 rev. vi
5’ respectively.
3 Such as Taprammi LÚ ša re-ši É.GAL-LIM (RS 17.231 rev. 9, 16) and Anuwanza ŠA LÚ SAG
(KUB 32.133 iv 8’ and probably KBo 71.52 rev. i 2’).
4 For more on the orthography of LÚ SAG in Hittite sources, see Miller 2004: 218–219, Weeden
2011: 277–278.
5 Taprammi as LÚ ša re-ši on RS 17.231:8–9, 15–16 (pru iv: 238) and EUNUCHUS2 on his seal
impression on the same tablet (Ugar. iii: 149), and Piḫa-Tarḫunta as LÚ SAG and EUNUCHUS2
on Niş 305 (see Hawkins 2005: 303). See also the readings mKi-z[i–x] and LÚ SA[G] on the
biscriptal Niş 162 by Soysal (2011: 331), which matches its EUNUCHUS2. Also on Niş 281 the
cuneiform lines are likely to be restored as mNa-[nu-wa] / LÚ [SAG] to match hieroglyphic
CRUS2(nà)-nú-wa/i EUNUCHUS2.
6 For a study of EUNUCHUS, see Hawkins 2002: 229–233.
7 CAD/R: 292–296.
8 Some of the recent discussions on the issue include Hawkins 2002, Pecchioli Daddi 2006:
121–124, Mora 2010, Peled 2013: 785–786, and Miller 2013: 294–295. See Bilgin 2018: 324–345
with a more detailed study of the attested officials.

The LÚ.MEŠ sag and Their Rise to Prominence 437
officials as “courtiers”, since this does not exclude the possibility that a courtier
might be a eunuch.9
In Hittite sources, the earliest datable reference10 to a LÚ SAG official comes
from a fragmentary attestation in the Annals of Muršili ii.11 This passage de-
scribes a military campaign in which King Muršili reports that a commander
named Kantuzzili and a certain LÚ SAG, whose name was not preserved, were
sent forth with troops and chariotry somewhere in the Kaška region. While the
passage indicates military responsibilities for a LÚ SAG, it is an isolated refer-
ence both in definition and in time period, starkly contrasting with the evi-
dence from the rest of the attestations of the LÚ SAG and its hieroglyphic
equivalent EUNUCHUS 2, all of which date to the 13th century, particularly to
the reigns of Ḫattušili iii and Tudḫaliya iv.
Two texts that provide us with important information about the LÚ.MEŠ
SAG are CTH 255.1 and CTH 255.2 (also known as SAG 2 and SAG 1, respective-
ly), which are the so-called “instruction texts” issued by Tudḫaliya iv.12 The
overall purpose of both compositions is to ensure the loyalty of the officials to
the king by placing them under oath against various possible misdeeds. All of
CTH 255.2 and parts of CTH 255.1 are addressed to the LÚ.MEŠ SAG officials.
The latter composition concerns all officials and nobles of Ḫatti, but it is di-
vided into sections with individual paragraphs addressed to specific groups,
where §§21–30 are probably directed exclusively at the LÚ.MEŠ SAG.13 Some
of the instructions in these paragraphs are typical of all officials, e.g., the duty
of supporting only the king and his descendants and not any other possible
royal contenders, and reporting conspiracies or anything negative one might
overhear. However, other paragraphs reveal more information, specifically
about the courtiers. From those paragraphs of CTH 255.1, as well as from the
whole of CTH 255.2, which is addressed solely to the courtiers, it is deduced
that these officials are:
– able to access the king’s inner chamber (ŠÀ É.ŠÀ ŠA LUGAL) (1–§23);
– entrusted with the king’s personal matters (1–§23, 2–§9);
– able to approach the king personally (1–§25, 2–§2);
– able to observe the king and some of his interactions at close range (2–§11);
9 See Miller 2013: 294.

10 The LÚ.MEŠ SAG of the late copy of šar tamḫari (KBo 22.6 i 7’ [CTH 310.5]) is almost
certainly a mistake for LÚ.MEŠUR.SAG (see Rieken 2001: 578). The “GAL LÚ.MEŠ SAG” of the
MS text KBo 7.28+KBo 8.92 rev. 37’ (CTH 371) is used as an epithet for the Sun-goddess of
the Netherworld (see Singer 2002: 21–24).
11 KBo 8.34+KBo 16.12:9’ (CTH 61.II.7); edited by Houwink ten Cate 1966: 168, 177.
12 For a recent edition of both texts, see Miller 2013: 282–307. Paragraph numbers here
follow Miller’s edition.
13 Courtiers are mentioned for the first time in §21, which is at the broken end of the third
column of the tablet.

438 Bilgin
– sent on missions to neighboring lands (1–§23, 2–§25), sometimes alongside

princes and lords (2–§21);
– authorized to deal with matters concerning palace women (1–§30, 2–§31).
The paragraphs that concern relations with palace women (1–§§31–33) have
been subject to deeper analysis in attempts to prove or disprove whether the
LÚ.MEŠ SAG were literally eunuchs:
§31 [No]w, since women are to be let into your houses, but, becau[se] this
is the palace, then whatever [pa]lace woman is (concerned), be she a
chambermaid (or) be she a free person, [i]f anyone (of you) has known
any one (of them), b[u]t he does not now break it off with [he]r, and they
hear [… (about him)] from [(he)r], and it/they […], then from this day on
whoever [… goe]s near another [woman of the pa]lace, (it) shall be placed
under oath.
§32 [And if] someone does not de[nounce] a colleague, on the other hand,
and I, My Majesty, hear about it, [and] I [quest]ion [him], he shall not
conceal it from me. A[nd if] he nonetheless conceals it, (it) shall be
placed under oath.
§33 [B]ut [if] someone is having an affair with [some]one, but a colleague
sees him [by chan]ce and he does [not] denounce him, then it shall be
placed under oath.14
The core of the argument seems to depend on determining who is really pro-
hibited from having affairs with the palace women. Two possible interpreta-
tions offered before are: (1) it is the courtiers who are prohibited and in the
subsequent paragraphs are asked to denounce their colleagues who do have
affairs;15 or (2) the courtiers are simply asked to denounce anybody who may
have an affair with the palace women, and what is translated in the subsequent
paragraphs as “colleague” is actually a “special male friend” with whom the
courtier has a relationship.16 This passage has already been thoroughly dis-
cussed by other scholars, and no new interpretation will be offered here. Of the
two interpretations, the former seems more convincing. The passage clearly
indicates that women are allowed into the houses of the courtiers. This can
hardly be interpreted in any way other than that the courtiers have their own
women. It makes less sense that within the same paragraph, which begins as
an address to the courtiers, a different group of individuals is being asked to
14 After Miller 2013: 305–307. Italics are after Miller and denote uncertainties in interpreta�-
tion.
15 Thus Pecchioli Daddi 2006: 122; Miller 2013: 294–295.
16 Thus Hawkins 2002: 223.

end relationships with the palace women, and it is certainly more suitable to
translate the term LÚara- as a “colleague” rather than a “(special) friend”.
The claim that the courtiers were not exclusively eunuchs may also find sup-
port from some genealogical data. Numerous proper names are attested with
the designations LÚ SAG and/or EUNUCHUS 2 in cuneiform and glyptic
sources. It is quite likely that all of these individuals served during the reigns of
Ḫattušili iii and more particularly Tudḫaliya iv. While the names from the
glyptic sources are far more numerous, cuneiform documents provide much
more information.
The personal names attested with the designation LÚ SAG are listed in
Table 22.1. Among them, Anuwanza (primarily known as a scribal supervisor
active during the reigns of Ḫattušili iii and Tudḫaliya iv) is the most frequent-
ly attested individual. He was attested more than forty times,17 a great majority
of which are in the colophons of documents. In most of these documents he
Table 22.1 Individuals attested with the LÚ SAG designation.
Name Source Other titles
Aliziti RS 20.212:27’
Anuwanza See note 17. EN URUNerik, LÚDUB.SAR
Kizi[…] Niş 162 (see note 5)
Nanuwa Niş 181 (see note 5)
Palla KUB 26.43 rev. [32] EN URUḪurme, LÚDUB.SAR
Piḫa-Tarḫunta KUB 13.35+ rev. iii 13, Niş 305
Taprammi RS 17.231:8, 15
Tarḫuntanani KUB 13.35+ i 38
Tuwattaziti KBo 21.42 rev. vi 5’, KBo LÚ
A.ZU
42.28 rev. vi 4’
?
Zuzzu KUB 21.38 obv. 22 LÚ

KARTAPPU
Zuzzulli RS 94.2352:5, 19 LÚ
KARTAPPU
EN-tarwa KUB 26.43 rev. 32 with dupl. DUB.SAR, UGULA É.GAL
KUB 26.50 rev. 25’[,
[…]anzi-Tešup KUB 13.33+ iv 7
17 For a list of attestations, see van den Hout 1995: 238–239 with n. 460, and add KBo 42.1
rev. iv 9’ and KBo 34.195 rev. 2’ (see Torri 2010a: 321 and 2011: 139). His name may also be
restored in the colophon of KUB 30.33 iv 15, if the last line is read LÚ [SAG IŠ-ṬUR].

440 Bilgin
appears as a supervisor of other scribes, often with the designation LÚ SAG

and occasionally with the title DUB.SAR.18 The only other title he is provided
with is EN URUNerik, which is accompanied by DUB.SAR and LÚ SAG in the
Šaḫurunuwa Text (CTH 225),19 where he is listed as a witness.
A couple of references to family connections of Anuwanza come from colo-
phons, which suggest the existence of sons of Anuwanza who were also
scribes:20
KUB 43.77 rev.

3’ [Š]U mTumum-ma-ni-i DUMU mA-nu-wa-an-za
4’ PA-NI mA-nu-wa-an-za SAG IŠ-ṬUR
5’ ṬUP-PU URUḪa-at-ti
VAT 13019b rev. ii

19’ [DUB.x.KAM (Ú)-U]L QA-TI
20’ [ŠU m DUB.SAR DU]MU mA-nu-wa-an-za
21’ [PA-NI mA-nu-wa-an-za LÚ SA]G? IŠ-ṬUR
Although the name of the son in the second text has not been preserved,
Torri (2010a: 320–321 with n. 19) suggests the existence of at least two sons of
Anuwanza on account of the differences between the handwriting of the two
tablets.21
The scribe named Ḫapatiwalwi identifies himself as the son of a courtier
and physician named Tuwattaziti on two separate occasions:22
18 KBo 40.345 rev. iv 4’], KBo 45.37 vi 1’[, KBo 59.111:6’, KUB 30.26 iv 14. On the scribal career
of Anuwanza, see Torri 2008: 777 and 2010b: 388–391.
19 KUB 26.43 rev. 34 with dupl. KUB 26.50 rev. 28’.
20 See Torri 2010a: 320.
21 A problem with the above readings is that in both texts the DUMU sign is rather unusual,
but the position of the sign in the formula of the colophon suggests that it should be
DUMU. Otten (1971: 49 with n. 105) offers the explanation that the DUMU signs of both
colophons are “archaisierend”. Pecchioli Daddi (1982: 515) reads the sign as NUMUN, but
that would suggest the existence of an older Anuwanza, for which there is no evidence
(van den Hout 1995: 240). The sign-form has been listed in hzl: 211 as one of the variants
of DUMU, apparently on account of its attestation in KUB 43.77 rev. 3’. Note also the
doubts expressed by Hawkins apud Weeden 2011: 200 n. 882.
22 Also in KUB 20.8 rev. vi 8’, but without the designation as courtier and physician; see
Gordin 2015: 169, 191.

KBo 21.42 rev. vi

4’ ŠU mḪa-pa-ti-PÌRIG
5’ DUMU mTu-wa-at-ta-LÚ LÚA.ZU SAG
6’ PA-NI mŠi-pa-LÚ IŠ-ṬUR
KBo 42.28 rev. vi?

3’ [Š]U mḪa-pa-ti-UR.MAH (erasure)
4’ [D]UMU mTu-u-wa-at-ta-LÚ LÚA.ZU LÚSA[G]
5’ PA-NI mA-nu-wa-an-za LÚ SAG I[Š-ṬUR]
Another courtier, Palla, is attested as a witness next to EN-tarwa in the

Šaḫurunuwa Text (KUB 26.43 rev. 32) with the titles EN URUḪurme, LÚDUB.SAR,
and LÚ SAG. His broken name in this text is restored on account of his pres-
ence as a witness in the Ulmi-Tešup Treaty (KBo 4.10+ rev. 32), again with the
title “Lord of Ḫurma”. The Šaḫurunuwa Text is the only document that identi-
fies him as LÚ SAG, whereas as a scribe he is attested in several documents.23
In two other colophons, Palla is identified as the father of the scribe Angulli:
KUB 30.26 iv
13’ ŠU mAn-gul-li LÚDUB.SAR DUMU mPal-l[a-a]
14’ PA-NI mA-nu-wa-an-za LÚDUB.SAR ŠA É x[24
KUB 32.133 iv
7’ ŠU m<An>-gul-li LÚDUB.SAR DUMU mPal-la-a
8’ PA-NI mA-nu-wa-an-za ŠA LÚ SAG IŠ-ṬUR
Considering that the scribal profession, as well as others, tended to pass from
father to son within families, it is assumed by several scholars that the father of
Angulli is the same person as Palla, the scribe and LÚ SAG.25 If so, like Anu-
wanza and Tuwattaziti, this would be another example of the existence of a LÚ
SAG having a son. It could be argued that the courtiers might have adopted
sons to ensure succession, but combined with the information derived from
23 In KBo 30.144 rev. 4’ (CTH 670) and VBoT 12+:6’ (CTH 560) as the scribe of the documents,
and in KBo 18.6:9’, 19’, 26’ (CTH 187) as one of the addressees of the scribal letter. The seal
impression Niş 291 identifies Palla (Pa-la) with the title SCRIBA.
24 Pecchioli Daddi (1982: 165) restores É.G[AL], and likewise Torri (2010b: 398–399) as
É.G[ALLIM], whereas Gordin (2015: 175) suggests É [GIŠ.KIN.TI].
25 See van den Hout 1995: 218, followed by Torri 2008: 776 n. 30 and Gordin 2015: 189.

442 Bilgin
Table 22.2 Individuals attested with the EUNUCHUS 2 designation.
Alalimi Niş 4, Niş 5, BoHa 22

no. 227
Ana[…] BoHa 14 no. 309 L. 135.2
Anamu(wa)? SBo ii 201
Aniwa/ina BoHa 22 no. 245 SIGILLUM
Ara/i-Inara? BoHa 22 no. 300 NEPOS.MAGNUS.REX,
MAGNUS+MI ?
Ar(a/i)li? BoHa 22 no. 330
Armapiḫami Niş 55, Niş 56, Niş 57
Armawalwi Niş 65, Niş 66 MAGNUS.PASTOR
(A)šuta? BoHa 22 no. 97 MAGNUS
Aza-Tarḫunta Niş 82, Niş 83, Niş 84?, SCRIBA
Niş 85 (=SBo ii 147),
Niş 86
In(n)arawa Niş 138, Niş 139 L. 414.DOMINUS
Iyarinu Niş 152 (=SBo ii 138) URCEUS
Iyatar(a)wa BoHa 22 no. 264 L. 414.DOMINUS,
SACERDOS 2?
Kiz[i…] Niş 162 SCRIBA
Kulazi/a Kennedy (1958, SACERDOS 2
no. 10)
Lula(ku)? Niş 205 SCRIBA-la
Ma…la SBo ii 152 SACERDOS 2, L.443
Mami…? SBo ii 215 SCRIBA
Mašaya Niş 232, Niş 233 L. 135.2
Miḫanti? Niş 239 L. 135.2
Nanuwa Niş 281, Niş 283, Niş AVIS 3+MAGNUS
284, Niş 285, Niş 288,
Niş 289
Pa-á-G. 195 BoHa 22 no. 103 L. 414.DOMINUS
Piḫamuwa Niş 299 PITHOS.VIR.DOMINUS
Piḫa-Tarḫunta Niş 305, Niş 306 DOMINUS,
AVIS 3+MAGNUS
Pukana Niş 332 L. 414.DOMINUS
Šariya Niş 350, Niş 351, Niş L. 135.2,
352, Niş 353, Niş 356? MAGNUS.PASTOR
Šatuḫa Steinherr (1974, no. 1)

Ta Niş 388, Niş 389? SIGILLUM ?

Taprammi RS 17.231, Niş 409, (DEUS.)SCRIBA(-la),
BoHa 22 no 98B, SBo PITHOS.VIR.DOMINUS,
II 92, KINIK bowl, MAGNUS.PASTOR ??
BOĞAZKÖY 1
Tarḫuntanani Niş 412 MAGNUS.PASTOR
Tarupašani? Niş 444
Tuwazi/a Niş 485 SACERDOS 2
Uku Niş 489 MAGNUS.PITHOS
Za? Niş 521
Zuwanna Niş 542
Zuwanni AKPINAR 2
AVIS 3A-ziti Niş 597
CERVUS 2-zi/a-pi-i(a)? Niş 604 MAGNUS.PITHOS
LINGUA-CLAVUS-a Niş 618
LINGUA-CLAVUS-i(a) Niş 622 SCRIBA
MAGNUS(-)ti?-mi-wa/i BoHa 22 no. 215
L. 26–L. BoHa 14 no. 308 MAGNUS.PITHOS,
398?(-LEO 2/BOS 2+MI) AVIS ?
L. 424? Niş 775 SCRIBA
x-tá-ti Niş 759
[…]-mi-[…] Niş 562 x?
[…]-wa/i-x Niş 760 URCEUS
[…] Niş 774 SCRIBA ?
CTH 255.2, these findings favor the opinion that the LÚ.MEŠ SAG were not
exclusively eunuchs in the literal sense.
The second point of contention regarding the courtiers is their courtly status
and connections to the royal family. It had been suggested by Starke (1996) that
the term LÚ.MEŠ SAG was the 13th-century replacement of LÚ.MEŠ GAL,
the so-called “grandees”, who were the group of officials that formed the top
layer of the Hittite administration. Others, although not necessarily agreeing
with such a replacement in terminology, also suggest that the LÚ.MEŠ SAG
were among the lords and princes of the court (Pecchioli Daddi 2006: 123, Mora
2010). These claims may be influenced by the fact that the LÚ.MEŠ SAG often
appear around the royal court, are involved in royal affairs, and are addressed
alongside lords and princes. However, there is no solid evidence of a connection

444 Bilgin
between any of the known courtiers and the royal family. One indicator of
royal affiliation would be the use of “prince” (DUMU.LUGAL or its hiero-
glyphic equivalent REX.FILIUS), which in the Hittite court applied not only to
the sons of Hittite kings but also to male extended family members who were
descendants of earlier kings, as well as those who entered the royal family
through marriage.26 Yet none of the known LÚ.MEŠ SAG or the multitude of
individuals known from glyptic sources as EUNUCHUS 2 are ever attested with
the DUMU.LUGAL or REX.FILIUS designations. While this absence of evi-
dence does not necessarily confirm anything, absence within a large sample
size statistically increases the likelihood of their exclusivity. In the Nişantepe
Archive alone, among the seals that belong to the state officials, REX.FILIUS
and EUNUCHUS 2 are the most frequently attested designations after scribal
titles: REX.FILIUS appears on 207 unique seals of 65 individuals and EU-
NUCHUS 2 appears on 101 distinct seals of 29 individuals.27 In the Nişantepe
Archive and elsewhere, both designations are attested with a multitude of
titles and professions, but there is no clear example of the two designations
being attested together.28
Known courtiers are also not associated with any of the prominent GAL-
level offices. Although Anuwanza and Palla bore the lordly titles EN URUNerik
and EN URUḪurma respectively, the exact nature of these titles remains obscure.
With both officials also having DUB.SAR titles (and in the case of Anuwanza,
having dozens of attestations as a scribal supervisor that tie him to scribal ac-
tivities that had been taking place in Ḫattuša), it is more reasonable to assume
that their EN URUNerik/Ḫurma titles did not indicate a governorship position in
those cities, but were perhaps only honorifics. Among the additional titles that
appear in combination with EUNUCHUS 2 (see Table 22.3), the most promi-
nent is the hieroglyphic MAGNUS.PASTOR (L. 438), for which GAL NA.GAD
was proposed as the cuneiform equivalent. Since some of the holders of the
26 See Imparati 1975: 87; Beal 1992: 413 n. 1550; Starke 1996: 144–145; Singer 1997: 418–419.
27 See Herbordt 2005: 93, 106.
28 Although Herbordt (2005: 230) reads the titles of the official named VITA+RA/I on Niş 666
as REX.FILIUS EUNUCHUS2, the partially preserved signs of both designations are diffi-
cult to read. Hawkins (2005: 287) suggests reading them as REX.FILIUS? SCRIBA?. In the
Nişantepe Archive, the name VITA+RA/I appears once with REX.FILIUS (Niş 665) and
twelve other times with scribal titles (Niş 173, 667–677). On the fragmentary Niş 664, only
the name is legible. Another possible exception is BoHa 22 no. 300, which seems to iden-
tify the seal owner as both EUNUCHUS2 and NEPOS?.MAGNUS.REX. The second designa-
tion can be translated as “grandson/descendant of the great king”, but its reading remains
uncertain.

Table 22.3 Titles frequently attested with EUNUCHUS 2.
Title Number of Known cuneiform equivalent

individuals
SCRIBA 8 LÚ
DUB.SAR
L. 135.2 4 LÚ
IGI.MUŠEN ?/LÚA.ZU ?/LÚHAL ?
L. 414.DOMINUS 4
SACERDOS 2 4 SANGA
LÚ
MAGNUS.PASTOR 3 GAL NA.GAD ?

MAGNUS.PITHOS 3
PITHOS.VIR.DOMINUS 2
AVIS 3+MAGNUS 2 LÚ
MUŠEN.DÙ/LÚIGI.MUŠEN ?
SIGILLUM 2 LÚ É NA4KIŠIB ?
URCEUS 2 LÚ
SAGI
GAL NA.GAD office are known by princely titles,29 this may appear to go against
the argument of this paper. However, the equation MAGNUS.PASTOR = GAL
NA.GAD remains uncertain and depends only on the possibility of identifying
the GAL NA.GAD official named Mizramuwa (of KUB 26.43 rev. 31) with the
official of the same name who appears on several seal impressions with the title
MAGNUS.PASTOR.30 The title MAGNUS.PASTOR is never attested in
combination with REX.FILIUS either, and since three of the six known hold-
ers of this title are also identified with the designation EUNUCHUS 2,31 the
dissociation of MAGNUS.PASTOR from GAL NA.GAD remains a strong
possibility.
As mentioned above, the documents CTH 255.1 and CTH 255.2 suggest
that courtiers are officials entrusted with the king’s personal matters who can
approach him personally. Further confirmation of this comes from other
sources. In an oracle text regarding the king’s proposal to spend the winter in
29 Most prominently Šaḫurunuwa (who also bears the titles GAL UKU.UŠ and GAL
DUB.SAR.GIŠ) and perhaps Mizramuwa, depending on the identification of princely
attestations of this name with the office GAL NA.GAD.
30 SBo ii 80, SBo ii 81, Niş 247, and Niş 248. Identification of the officials and their titles was
suggested by Bossert (1960: 441–442). See also Hawkins 2005: 305.
31 Armawalwi (Niş 66), Tarḫuntanani (Niş 412), Sariya (Niş 353), Mizramuwa (SBo ii 80, SBo
ii 81, Niş 247, and Niş 248), Anatali (BoHa 22 no. 189), VIR.x-zi/a (SBo ii 232). The seals of
the former three also bear EUNUCHUS2. Taprammi’s seal impression on RS 17.231 may
also include a rather abraded MAGNUS.PASTOR.

446 Bilgin
Ḫattuša, a series of questions are asked. When the answer to an inquiry about
whether there was anything to fear from accidents comes out unfavorable, it is
asked whether giving sworn instructions to the courtiers and chariot drivers
would make the evil disappear: “Since an accident32 has been ascertained for
His Majesty, they will give sworn instructions to the LÚ.MEŠ SAG and
LÚ.MEŠ
KARTAPPU. If that would make the evil disappear, let the oracle be
favorable!”33 A similar inquiry concerning LÚ.MEŠ SAG and LÚ.MEŠKARTAPPU
is also found in the lot-oracle fragment KBo 41.156 ii 5’–15’ (CTH 572). The fact
that, upon the perceived threat of an accident, it was deemed necessary to give
instructions to the courtiers and the chariot drivers does suggest that those
individuals are in a physically close position to the king and can potentially
play a role in an accident that might befall him.34
The extensive list of individuals attested as LÚ SAG/EUNUCHUS 2 (Table
22.1 and Table22.2) suggests that there were a large number of them.35 The list
also reveals that the courtiers are quite frequently attested with additional
titles. In roughly two-thirds of the attestations, they are identified with at least
one additional title, which indicates that most of the courtiers were members
of various professions.
The most frequently attested hieroglyphic titles are listed in Table 22.3, along
with their known or suspected cuneiform equivalents.36 MAGNUS.PITHOS
and PITHOS.VIR.DOMINUS are likely to be related titles. While their exact
meaning is not known, the PITHOS component leads one to speculate that
they are supervisor-level officials who oversee activities related to the han-
dling of commodities/inventory. Similarly, L. 414.DOMINUS is likely to be an
E N-type position on account of the DOMINUS component, which would be a
reasonable assumption considering the titles EN URUNerik and EN URUḪurma
of the courtiers Anuwanza and Palla.37 Some courtiers are attested with the
32 Lit. “misdeed of the hand”. On its translation as “accident”, see Beal 2002: 29 n. 81.
33 KUB 5.3+ i 8–10 (CTH 563.1.A); the passage is edited by Archi (1982: 283–286).
34 The chariot drivers must be a reference to the drivers of the royal carriages, since in a
parallel text it is inquired whether giving instructions to chariot drivers would eliminate
the threat from “road accidents” (lit. “misdeed of the horse”; KUB 5.4+ ii 37–42). Cf. Beal
2002: 29–30.
35 Not included here are a few attestations from Syria: Ibridun (RS 17.325:20), Bēlu-kabar
(Emar iv C21), Ea-rabi (HCCT-E 32).
36 For an analysis of these titles and their cuneiform equivalents, see Hawkins 2005:
300–313.
37 For a discussion of L. 414.DOMINUS, see Hawkins 2005: 312. B. Dinçol (2001: 101) and A.M.
Dinçol and B. Dinçol (2008: 70) interpret L. 414 as an equivalent of cuneiform NA4ḫekur,
suggesting that the title MAUSOLEUM.DOMINUS is the hieroglyphic equivalent of an
unattested cuneiform title EN (NA4)ḫekur.

t itle LÚKARTAPPU/AURIGA (“chariot driver”), and the oracle texts mentioned

above indicate that LÚ.MEŠKARTAPPU and LÚ.MEŠ SAG had certain shared fea-
tures on account of their physical closeness to the king. It is quite likely that the
king had several chariot drivers who served him personally on his trips and also
as messengers on missions.38 A fragmentary attestation of the phrase L]Ú SAG
I-DI “[…], the courtier, inspected (it)” in the inventory document KUB 40.96+ iv
8’ (CTH 245.2)39 suggests that some of these officials also acted in supervisory
capacities with regard to palace inventories.
Although the courtiers were not members of the royal family, they were ap-
parently a privileged group of officials with personal access to the king. They
were trained to serve in various functions, such as clerks (SCRIBA, SIGILLUM),
priests (SACERDOS 2), seers, augurs, physicians (L. 135.2, AVIS 3+MAGNUS),
attendants (URCEUS), and managers of inventory? (MAGNUS.PITHOS,
PITHOS.VIR.DOMINUS). The position of these non-royal officials in the in-
nermost circle of the king and their presence alongside the “princes” of the
administrations presents a dichotomy.40 The reasons for this contrast may be
found in the political developments that surrounded the succession of kings to
the Hittite throne during the mid-13th century bce.
It is already well known that Ḫattušili iii’s usurpation of the Hittite throne
by deposing his brother’s son Muršili iii/Urḫi-Tešup went against the estab-
lished rules of the Hittite monarchy. Although Ḫattušili presented various rea-
sons to justify his actions and ultimately tied his kingship to the will of the
gods, there are several indications that he was concerned about the stability of
his throne. Externally, he tried to legitimize his kingship by receiving the ap-
proval of the neighboring powers of Assyria, Babylonia, and Egypt, with whom
he tried to maintain peaceful relations. Internally, he tried to eliminate a pos-
sible claim to the throne from Kurunta, another son of Muwatalli ii, by ap-
pointing him as the vassal ruler of a purposely created appanage kingdom. In
fact, this concern may even have played a role in his decision to replace his
older son Nerikkaili with Tudḫaliya as the crown prince, since Tudḫaliya had
grown up with Kurunta and developed a close friendship.41
It was under these circumstances that Tudḫaliya iv ascended the Hittite
throne. He was facing threats not only from the descendants of Muwatalli ii
and Urḫi-Tešup, who claimed to be rightful heirs to the throne, but possibly
38 As suggested in CTH 255.1 §23 and CTH.2 §§21, 25.

39 Edited by Siegelová (1986: 276–281).
40 See Bilgin 2018: 419–421.
41 A more important factor in Ḫattušili’s decision to replace Nerikkaili with Tudḫaliya was
probably the influence of Puduḫepa. It is likely that Nerikkaili was not a son of Puduḫepa
(see Klengel 1991: 227).

448 Bilgin
also from some of his own brothers, who may not have been happy about
Ḫattušili’s late decision to elevate Tudḫaliya above the others. Indications of
concerns regarding such threats can be observed in several documents of
Tudḫaliya iv.
In his treaty with Šauškamuwa of Amurru (CTH 105), Tudḫaliya goes beyond
the clichéd language about loyalty to the king and his progeny, saying: “You
shall not desire anyone else as overlord from among those who are legitimate
brothers of My Majesty, sons of the concubines of the father of My Majesty, or
even other royal progeny who are to be regarded by you as bastards”.42 Strik-
ingly, he even points out the disloyalty of the vassal king Mašturi to Urḫi-Tešup
as an example of treachery, despite the fact that Mašturi’s actions had sup-
ported the kingship of Tudḫaliya’s father.
In an oft-quoted passage from the text CTH 255.2, Tudḫaliya emphasizes the
possible challenges that might come from numerous members of the royal
family:
My Majesty has many brothers, and they have many fathers. The land of
Ḫa[tti] is full of royal progeny. In Ḫa[tti] the [progeny of Š]uppiluliuma,
the progeny of Muršili, the progeny of Muwatalli, the progeny of Ḫattušili
are numerous, and (yet) you shall recognize no other man for the lo[rds]
hip, and after (me) you must protect the sons and grandsons, the seed of
Tudḫaliya alone, for the lordship! And if evil e[ve]r befalls My Majesty—
My Majesty (has), after all, many brothers—and perhaps you even do
this: you support someone else and you speak thus: “Whomever shall we
raise up (as king) for ourselves? Is that other man not in fact a son of our
lord?” Such an utterance shall not be made! For the lordship protect here-
after only the progeny of My Majesty! You shall not support anyone else!
[Protec]t My Maj[esty and the pro]geny of My Majesty for the lordship!
But by no means […]! You [shall not] support any [oth]er man!43
In KUB 26.18:8’–12’, which appears to be a fragment of another instruction/

loyalty text, he issues a similar warning while specifically naming some of his
brothers: Nerikkaili, Ḫuzziya, and […]-dLAMMA.44
42 CTH 105 ii 10–14 (Beckman 1999: 105).

43 KUB 26.1+KUB 23.112 i 9–29; edited by Miller (2013: 296–297).
44 For an edition of KUB 26.18, see Giorgieri 1995: 277. For analysis of this specific passage,
see van den Hout 1995: 100–103. The last name might be restored as Šauškaruntiya
([mdLIŠ-]dLAMMA) (van den Hout 1995: 104, followed by Marizza 2006: 167).

The best expression of Tudḫaliya’s anxiety concerning the stability of his

power can be observed in his loyalty instructions CTH 255.1, where possible
threats that may come from a brother or half-brother of his father or himself
are repeatedly mentioned (§§4, 5, 7, 9, 24, 27). §24 reads:
And you shall not recognize My Majesty’s full brothers, born of the queen
subsequently, nor those who are sons of a secondary wife of the father of
My Majesty. For the lordship you shall support only My Majesty and after
(him) his sons (and) grandsons. You shall discard the oath of the person
who makes you swear to the brothers of My Majesty, and you shall sup-
port only My Majesty and the sons of My Majesty for the lordship; or (if)
the full brothers of My Majesty or a son of a secondary wife <has> done
some wi[ck]ed thing, (e.g.,) blood(shed) or rebellion, [o]r he has fore-
knowledge of some wicked matter; [o]r some prince divulges a wicked
matter to a courtier, or he has also already [to]ld you, but you do not re-
port it to the king; [o]r some prince (or) brother of the king makes some
courtier (his) [ass]ociate, and he divulges to him some evil, [inopp]or-
tune [matter] regarding the king, but he does not [repo]rt it to the king:
under the oath.45
While loyalty to only the king and his descendants is commonly invoked in
texts that incorporate allegiance clauses, no other Hittite king goes into such
detail to underline the risks posed by other family members.
Beside the expression of such concerns, several favors bestowed upon fam-
ily members can be interpreted as attempts to curb ambitions. Apparently,
right after Tudḫaliya became king he reinstated his older brother Nerikkaili as
the crown prince, since the latter is attested with the tuḫkanti title at the head
of the witness list in the Šaḫurunuwa Text (CTH 225), which is dated to the very
early years of Tudḫaliya’s reign. While it is possible that at the time Tudḫaliya
may not yet have had a son to name as the crown prince, it is also conceivable
that the move was intended to keep his brother satisfied. He also granted fur-
ther territory and liberties to Kurunta in Tarḫuntašša, as revealed in his re-
newed vassal treaty (the Bronze Tablet, CTH 106.A) and through a comparison
of it to the earlier version (CTH 106.B) that was established by Ḫattušili iii.
Tudḫaliya’s attempts to make amends with various royal descendants can
also be observed in his extensive oracle inquiry CTH 569.46 It is the lengthiest
of all such texts in the Hittite corpus, and its apparent object is to undo the
45 KUB 21.42+KUB 26.12 iv 16–32; edited by Miller (2013: 290–291).

46 Edited and treated in detail by van den Hout (1998).

450 Bilgin
curses of several individuals and purify the kingship of Tudḫaliya iv. The com-
mon denominator of these individuals seems to be that they were all members
of the royal family who had been subjected to injustice and/or persecution in
the past and who were no longer alive. Besides Urḫi-Tešup, included here are
Arma-Tarḫunta and Tanuḫepa. The former was in all likelihood the son of Zita,
who had been an opponent of Ḫattušili iii. Tanuḫepa was almost certainly the
queen of Muršili ii, who was exiled by Muwatalli ii.47 Throughout the compo-
sition, several references are made to the descendants of these individuals and
their compensation, including grants of land.48
Certain events support the belief that Tudḫaliya’s concerns were not exag-
gerations. Despite the additional favors, it is known that his cousin Kurunta,
king of Tarḫuntašša, did eventually rebel, going as far as declaring himself
Great King. Another event is the so-called “Conspiracy of Ḫešni”, which is
mainly known from the fragmentary court deposition KUB 31.68.49 Although
the context is not entirely clear due to damage, the main conspirator was ap-
parently Ḫešni, who was probably another son of Ḫattušili iii.50 Along with
certain high dignitaries, he tried to organize an attack against the king of Ḫatti,
who was probably Tudḫaliya iv. It is reasonable to suspect that the conspiracy
of Ḫešni took place very early in Tudḫaliya’s reign, before the young king had
had time to consolidate his power.51 The presence of Ḫešni’s name as a witness
in the Ulmi-Tešup Treaty of Ḫattušili iii, and its absence in the Šaḫurunuwa
Text and the Bronze Tablet, could be seen as a confirmation of this assump-
tion. Therefore, the conspiracy of Ḫešni was probably an event that must have
at least elevated the concerns of Tudḫaliya and contributed to the adoption of
the policies described above.
It is likely that a great majority of the attestations of the courtiers date to the
reign of Tudḫaliya iv.52 The loyalty instructions CTH 255.1 and CTH 255.2 were
also issued by Tudḫaliya iv. As has been noted by Miller (2013: 297), there are
indications that CTH 255.2 was issued in urgency, and if so, it is conceivable
that the document was composed shortly after the discovery of the Ḫešni
47 For a prosopographic analysis of the individuals involved in CTH 569, see van den Hout
1998: 41–71.
48 Concerning the family of Urḫi-Tešup, see the commentary for line iii 53 in van den Hout
1998: 230.
49 Edited by Stefanini (1962: 22–24). See Tani 2001 for a more recent analysis.
50 See van den Hout 1995: 207; de Martino 2012: 104.
51 Thus Tani 2001: 155.
52 An exception to this is a letter of Puduḫepa to Ramesses ii concerning marriage arrange-
ments (KUB 21.38), which includes a reference to Zuzzu, who is identified as both a court-
ier and chariot driver (obv. 22’).

c onspiracy. Right after the introductory paragraph, Tudḫaliya’s address to the

courtiers starts with the statement dUTU ŠI-kán šu-um-ma-aš ŠU-aš, literally
“My Majesty is in your hands”, which underlines the desperation the king must
have felt concerning the loyalty of these subjects.
The conditions surrounding Tudḫaliya iv as described above suggest that
this Hittite king had valid reasons to surround himself with officials from out-
side the royal family. While many of the high offices remained largely in the
hands of the royal aristocracy, distancing family members from the adminis-
tration was probably not easy to accomplish. Their presence was almost cer-
tainly dictated by the long-established traditional rules of the patrimonial
structure. While the king had the power to prosecute and inflict penalties even
on the members of the royal family, his statements suggest that there were
many people to be suspicious of and that he could not obtain enough informa-
tion about the actual intentions of each and every person. The courtiers’
non-royal background must have been perceived by the king as a benefit. The
increased visibility of the LÚ.MEŠ SAG in the textual sources of the period was
likely a result of these circumstances. They were probably the only officials
who had personal access to the king. They ran his private affairs and assisted in
his administrative activities; they became his confidants and advisors, and in
the meantime formed a buffer zone between him and potential threats.
Abbreviations
BoHa Boğazköy-Hattuša. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen

FHL J.-M. Durand and E. Laroche, Fragments hittites du Louvre, in: Mé-
morial Atatürk, 73–107
SBo H. Güterbock, Siegel aus Boğazköy
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Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 785–797.
Rieken, E. (2001) Der hethitische šar-tamhāri-Text: archaisch oder archaisierend?, in:
G. Wilhelm (ed.), 576–585.
Siegelová, J. (1986) Hethitische Verwaltungspraxis im Lichte der Wirtschafts- und Inven-
tardokumente, I–III, Praha: Národní Muzeum v Praze.
Singer, I. (1997) Review of van den Hout 1995, BiOr 54, 416–23.
Singer, I. (2002) Hittite Prayers [WAW 11], Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.
Soysal, O. (2011) Review of S. Herbordt 2005, JNES 70, 325–334.
Starke, F. (1996) Zur “Regierung” des hethitischen Staates, ZABR 2, 140–182.
Stefanini, R. (1962) Studi ittiti, 1, Athenaeum 40, 1–36.
Steinherr, F. (1974) Hieroglyphen-luwische Siegel und Siegelabdrücke aus verschie-
denen Privatsammlungen und Museen, MSS 32, 149–158.
Tani, N. (2001) More about the “Ḫešni Conspiracy”, AoF 28, 154–164.
Torri, G. (2008) The scribes of the House on the Slope, in: A. Archi and R. Francia (eds.),
VI Congresso Internazionale di Ittitologia, Roma, 5–9 settembre 2005, Parte II
(= SMEA 50), Rome: CNR, Istituto di studi sulle civiltà dell’Egeo e del Vicino Ori-
ente, 771–782.
Torri, G. (2010a) Hittite scribes at play: the case of the cuneiform sign AN, in: J. Klinger,
E. Rieken and C. Rüster (eds.), Investigationes Anatolicae: Gedenkschrift für Erich
Neu [StBoT 52], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 317–327.
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the career of Anuwanza, court dignitary and lord of Nerik, in: M.G. Biga and M.
Liverani (eds.), Ana turri gimilli. Studi dedicati al Padre Werner R. Meyer, S.J., da amici
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454 Bilgin
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Chapter 23
Virginity in Hittite Ritual

Billie Jean Collins
Abstract
Examination of the role of young girls in three rituals from Ḫattuša (Paškuwatti,
Anniwiyanni, and Ammā) suggests that they served as ritual assistants with a specific
range of duties, which, however, did not include acts of a sexual nature, as has previ-
ously been suggested. In particular, the term DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara may refer to
a girl (daughter) dedicated for a time to temple service by her family, for whom her
presexuality would have been a matter of honor. New interpretations of Paškuwatti’s
and Anniwiyanni’s rituals are offered in light of a newly reconstructed ritual attributed
to a Wise Woman named Ammā. A key passage in Paškuwatti’s ritual against sexual
dysfunction is argued to be metaphorical and does not require reading into the text a
sexual act involving the young assistant, while Anniwiyanni’s ritual is argued to be
entirely devoid of sexual associations.
Keywords
Paškuwatti – Anniwiyanni – šuppeššara – virginity – Hittites – ritual
Aside from some celebrated examples of what is not permissible sexually, we

know very little about sexuality in Hittite Anatolia. As an example, the Hittite
sources nowhere mention or address outright the notion of the bride’s virgin-
ity as the condition for her to be acceptable for marriage. This mirrors the situ-
ation in Mesopotamian sources as well.1 Nevertheless we might presume that,
as in any strongly patriarchal society, female virginity was highly valued in Hit-
tite society. Jerry Cooper (2002) has made the case for the socioeconomic value
of virginity in Mesopotamia, and there is little reason to suppose the situation
was otherwise in Anatolia. He observes that restricting premarital sexual
1 Cooper 2002: 93, citing Malul 1991/92: 73.

456 Collins
e xperience avoided self-selection of marriage partners while also serving as a

rehearsal of marital fidelity (Cooper 2002: 105). For Frymer-Kensky (1998: 85),
virginity provides “a specific purpose towards which the patriarchal urge to
dominate can be directed, and a way in which it can be measured.” That is, a
girl’s virginity was something to be controlled.
Just as in Mesopotamia, there is no word for “virgin” in Hittite. There are, in
fact, no terms in Hittite that label a woman based on her sexual activity (Col-
lins 2016: 332). The Sumerogram KI.SIKIL (Hitt. zintuḫi) is used as a broad
term for an adolescent, unmarried girl,2 and, as in Mesopotamia, is an age
grade. It may, however, have the extended meaning “virgin” because an unmar-
ried girl was expected to be sexually innocent.3 (Whether sexual innocence
was assumed for adolescent boys is unlikely; in Mesopotamia it was not, see
Cooper 2002: 102–103.) When it was necessary to indicate sexual innocence, as
for the nine young boys of Zarpiya’s ritual, the text had to elaborate: “nine boys
who have not yet gone to a woman.”4
Also occurring, though infrequently, is the appellation DUMU.MUNUS
šuppeššara.5 DUMU.MUNUS means “daughter”, though it is usually translated
simply “young girl”, and DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara literally means “sacred”
or “pure daughter.”6 The term itself implies something extraordinary—a girl
having a special cultic status. A virginal state seems the likely inference, though
again, this would only be an extended meaning. The term occurs in a handful
of religious texts, many of them fragmentary, but all support the possibility
that the DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara was a ritual attendant who assisted in a
2 Cooper 2002: 91: ki-sikil-tur and ki-sikil, corresponding to Akkadian batultu and ardatu, are
age grades, not the word for virgin. For occurrences of both terms in Hittite, see Pecchioli
Daddi 1982: 401–407 (zintuḫi), 418–419 (KI.SIKIL).
3 Cooper 2002: 91–93. That KI.SIKIL is sometimes used in Mesopotamian literary texts of god-
desses who are no longer virgins only confirms that the term is an age grade and not indica-
tive of sexual activity.
4 Collins, CoS 1.64: 163 (§14); see Cooper 2002: 92, 103 for similar expressions for both genders in
Mesopotamian texts.
5 Haas (2003: 552) equates (DUMU.MUNUS)šuppeššar(r)a- with Akk. batultu.
6 E. Rieken (2009: §8”’) translates this term as “pure daughters” (“rein[e] Töchter”), in her treat-
ment of CTH 328. Corti (2010: 98) also translates “pure daughters” in the text Bo 5126+ obv. I
20’ and 24’, a duplicate belonging to CTH 667. Taggar-Cohen (2006: 319) suggests that it refers
to “a sacred companion to the deity” in CTH 639. Kloekhorst (2008: 789) translates “a priest-
ess, purified woman.”

Virginity in Hittite Ritual 457
variety of ways in diverse ritual contexts.7 It may even be a priestly title built on
a kinship term, comparable to AMA DINGIR, “mother of the deity.”8
Alternatively—or additionally—the use of the term for “daughter” should
perhaps be taken literally: She is someone’s daughter, and, thus, not yet some-
one’s wife—that is, she is under the guardianship of her father, which in turn
implies a young, unmarried girl. If so, it could even have legal, as well as reli-
gious, implications. Fathers dedicating their daughters to temple service is a
well-attested practice in antiquity.9 Appointment to the office of priestess was
often reserved for daughters of high-ranking officials and was a reflection of
the father’s honor.
A passage found in a late 10th–early 9th-century Hieroglyphic Luwian in-
scription from Tell Ahmar offers an interesting parallel to our appellation:10
TELL AHMAR 1, §24

§ 24 [mi-pa-wa/i]-mi-i-tú-a* |(“*314”)ka-pi-la-li-na (FILIA)tú-wa/i-tara/i-
na (FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA)ta-ni-ti-na | i-zi-i-wa/i-i
“I shall make my enemy’s daughter a hierodule for him (the storm
god)”
(edition Hawkins CHLI 1.241 and 243; trans. H. Craig Melchert, pers.
comm.)
Regarding the term (FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA)ta-ni-ti-na, Hawkins (1978: 115)

writes, “the sense ‘hierodule’ emerges fairly clearly from the context.” Starke
(1990: 206–207) adduces the cuneiform (MUNUS)daniti, which is a type of priestess.
7 The “pure daughters” appear with the “[pur]e(?) sons of His Majesty” in Bo 5126+ obv. i
20’–25’ (see Corti 2019: 95–96). Corti (discussion on pp. 97–99) suggests that the pure
daughters are the same three girls who participate in ritual performances elsewhere in
the ceremonies of CTH 667, “Celebrations in the Zalpuwa Land.” According to his inter-
pretation, the girls compete in order to be selected for the ritual performances (pp. 98–99).
Rutherford (2019) draws our attention to parallels in the Greek world and suggests that
the Zalpuwa ritual complex could be evidence of girls placed in temporary service in a
temple à la Greek rites of passage. If these interpretations are correct, they support the
thesis offered here that the “pure daughters” are members of elite families dedicated to
temporary temple service.
8 A Hittite reading of MUNUSduttariyata/i-, a derivative of the PIE word for daughter,
*dhugh2tḗr, as proposed by Veronika Milanova (this volume, following Starke 1987: 252)
would fit well with the various attestations of DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara.
9 For the Hittite practice of providing daughters of well-connected families to cultic institu-
tions, see, e.g., Rutherford 2004: esp. 381; Jian 1994; and cf. Giorgadze 1985, 1999.
10 I am grateful to H. Craig Melchert for bringing this passage to my attention and for other
helpful comments.

458 Collins
Thus the author, whose name is lost, threatens his enemy with committing
his daughter to temple service. This hardly seems an honor, unless we under-
stand the insult as depriving the enemy of authority in the matter of his own
daughter rather than in the humiliation of turning her into a temple servant;
the author will put her in service to his own god. The passage testifies to the
practice of dedicating daughters to temple service, while the determinative
FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA itself offers a close parallel to the appellation in con-
sideration here: DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara.11
The better-preserved attestations of the term occur in the rituals attributed
to practitioners from Arzawa: the Wise Women Paškuwatti (CTH 406) and An-
niwiyanni (whose two rituals are inscribed together on one tablet; CTH 393).
The remaining attestations (none of which is from Arzawa) occur in contexts
so fragmentary or incomplete that we learn little more about them, or at least
nothing to contradict the suppositions that I make in what follows.12 Another
“Arzawan” ritual, Ammā’s ritual (CTH 456.2.1), attests the term KI.SIKIL in a
context comparable to those for the DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara in Paškuwatti
and Anniwiyani, and sheds additional light on her ritual purpose.
1 Paškuwatti
Paškuwatti’s ritual is given the title “When a man is not a man with respect to
a woman” and is designed to assist a man who is unable to perform sexually
with a woman. This “dysfunction” may have been impotence or, as more
recently suggested, passive homosexuality (Miller 2010).13 The ritual begins
with offerings prepared for the goddess Uliliyassi. The female assistant
(DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara) takes them to another place, with the patient
following. Paškuwatti constructs a gate of reeds and the patient, holding a
11 Hawkins (1978: 115) remarks that it is not clear whether FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA(-)ta-ni-ti-

is the correct order of reading.
12 These are: a Hattic festival for Titiwatti (CTH 639; see Taggar-Cohen 2006: 317–320); Myth
of the Weather God of the writer Pirwa (CTH 328; Rieken 2009; see also Haas 2003: 552–
553), which is part of the Missing Deity genre; the Wise Woman Unki’s ritual (KBo 22.110,
3; CTH 470; šuppeššaraš DUMU.MUNUS is in the third line of the incipit; see D. Groddek,
DBH 24 [2008] 103); and perhaps KUB 33.62, 16’, 18’, 19’ (CTH 330.1.M; see Glocker 1997:
40–41 for the broken context).
13 Such an interpretation, however, reflects modern concerns and presupposes that sexual-
ity in Hittite Anatolia was an either/or proposition. In truth, we know nothing about how
homosexuality was viewed in Anatolia in this period.

spindle and distaff, passes through it (§4). The spindle and distaff are then re-
placed with bow and arrow. An incantation follows.
Sending the patient through a gate made of reeds, accompanied by the ex-
change of spindel and distaff,14 symbols of femininity, for a bow and arrows,
symbols of masculinity, signal the patient’s soon-to-be-restored sexuality.
Following several broken lines, the young girl reappears. The relevant incan-
tation in §6 is fragmentary, but it seems that the girl, among her other ritual
duties, is present to draw the patient into a sexual response:
§6 (6’) [o o] x x x[o ki-]it-ta na-aš-ma-wa-za DUMU.MUNUS šu-up-pé-

šar-aš (7’) [x-x-t]a-at nu-wa-aš-ši-kán an-da-ki-it-ti-iš-ši (8’) kat-ta-an-ta
pa-it nu-wa ka-a-aš ta-an-tu-ke-eš-na-aš DUMU-aš (9’) ša-ak-na-aš ši-e-
ḫu-na-aš nu-ud-du-uš-ša-an Ú-UL (10’) ú-e-mi-ya-at
“[…] ... or the sacred daughter […] … She went down to his loins, (but)
this mortal (is) one of feces, one of urine. He did not find you.”
Moreover, this effort is predetermined to fail in order to build up to the—

hopefully successful—encounter with the goddess.
After a lengthy invocation to the goddess, we come to the central element of
the ritual: a therapeutic dream incubation. The incubation takes place in the
patient’s home before an offering table prepared especially for the goddess.
The patient sleeps next to it for three nights, while each day Paškuwatti en-
treats the goddess morning, noon, and evening. For the ritual to be successful,
the goddess Uliliyašši must appear to the patient in a dream and have sex with
him. If she does not, the ritual must be repeated until the desired outcome,
that is, the restoration of sexuality, is achieved.
This is all very suggestive. But it is worth pointing out the obvious, namely,
that the key passage in §6 is fragmentary, and the preceding section complete-
ly broken. In addition, the true meaning of the word that is translated “loins”
(or alternatively, “bed chamber”), antaka, is far from certain. Last, we cannot
really be certain of who is doing what to whom. Assuming for the moment,
though, that we are satisfied with the various translations offered, which more
or less agree with one another,15 there is another point that has not been con-
sidered, namely, that the entire passage occurs within an extended incantation,
14 Further to the significance of the spindel and distaff, see Ofitsch 2001.
15 The following translations have been offered:
Hoffner (1987: 272): “Or a virgin […]. He went down to her bedchamber, but this mortal
(was just) one of faeces and urine. He did not find you.”
Melchert (2003: 283): “Or [you beca]me? a virgin young woman. He went down to her
loins. (But) this mortal (was just) one of faeces and urine. He did not find you.”

460 Collins
spoken by Paškuwatti, and while incantations invoke, praise, exhort, cajole,

declare, and compare, they are not de facto descriptions of the actions of the
ritual. Descriptions of accompanying ritual actions may precede an incanta-
tion, but the incantation itself typically uses metaphorical, analogical, and/or
mythological language that seeks to induce a desired result by narrating it on a
parallel, magical-mythical plane. Whereas the outcome of Paškuwatti’s ritual
on the whole is theoretically uncertain, this particular incantation announces
an outcome about which there is no uncertainty, namely, that the man will fail
to respond. The fact that the act is predetermined to fail further supports the
metaphorical nature of the incantation. In a sense, we have two virgins here,
the real-life one assisting in the ritual, and the “virtual” one, who is incorpo-
rated into the narrative fiction of the ritual. This is not to say that there is no
connection between the incantation and the actions of the ritual. The living
girl must be present in the ritual as she is the referent for the metaphor; with-
out her attendance, the incantation has no place in the ritual. However, it is
hardly inevitable that the mortal virgin is being required to perform a sexual
act.
2 Anniwiyanni #1
Anniwiyanni’s first ritual, “When I perform the ritual of the Protective Deity
lulimi”, shows strong connections to Paškuwatti, as has regularly been pointed
out, though its exact purpose is not stated and is difficult to determine from its
content. The ritual also features a “sacred daughter”, the same title as that used
for the girl in Paškuwatti’s ritual,16 and like Paškuwatti’s ritual, it has been
interpreted as a ritual designed to cure passive homosexuality (Peled 2010a).
The ritual takes place in two locations, one in the home of the ritual patron,
and the other in a remote location. In the former, images of the birds that were
observed during augury are made (§2). Grains are roasted and other ritual
Miller (2010: 86–87): “([…] or the virgin […]). She? went down to his? loins, but this
mortal (is) one of shit, one of piss.”
Mouton (2012): “[…] ou bien la ‘fille de pureté sacrée’ […]. Il est descendu à ses reins. Ce
mortel (a été) d’excrément (et) d’urine, il ne t’a pas trouvée.”
Cf. Haas (2003: 553): “Oder die Jungfrau […] und sie ging zu ihm in das Bett; dieser aber
ist ein Mann des Kotes (und) des Harns; und dich (Uliliyassi) fand er nicht.”
16 The other similiarities with Paškuwatti cited by Peled (2010a: 72), namely, the use of col-
ored wool and a makeshift gate, could also be said of many other rituals as well. The paral-
lel with Ḫuwarlu in these elements and others is far more precise than with Paškuwatti.

aterials prepared. Threads are used to tie the patient to his bed and then to
m
his chariot, bow, and quiver (§3). The ritual materials are placed beneath the
patient’s bed overnight (§4). The next day the threads are cut (§5). The female
assistant (DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara) is brought into the house holding a
bird figurine.
She then utters the only—and thus the key—incantation of the ritual: “Go
away, Protective Deity lulimi! Come in, Protective Deity innarawant!” (§5). The
epithets lulimi- and innarawant- have been interpreted as “effeminate” and
“manly” respectively, though the interpretation of lulimi- as “effeminate” is ob-
tained entirely through its contrast with innarawant- “strong, vigorous” and is
not at all certain.17 But this is a standard formula to expel an unwanted demon
and attract a good one.
The ritual patron is not present in the second location, his part having fin-
ished upon the uttering of the incantation in §5. The two halves of the ritual
are connected only by the presence of the girl and the bird of dough that she
held up while reciting the incantation. In this second location, the girl places
the model bird on the altar (§6). A hawthorn gate is constructed (§7). A puppy
and a goat are sacrificed (§§7–10), the bird images are buried, the roasted
grains are scattered, and everyone passes through the gate (§11). The site is
abandoned, and the road behind is “blocked” with wooden pegs. Oracles are
taken to approve the return of the participants to the town. Everyone bathes
(§13). Finally, offerings are made to the Protective Deity innarawant, and the
augurs share a ritual meal with the deity.
The reasons given for interpreting this ritual through a sexual lens are:
– The alleged meaning of lulimi as “effeminate”, which remains speculative.
– The similarities to Paškuwatti, including the use of colored wool and a
makeshift gate. However, these elements occur in many other rituals as well
and are not indicative of a special link between the two rituals.
– The presence of the ritual patron’s chariot, bow, and quiver (§3)—tradition-
al symbols of manliness, as we saw in Paškuwatti’s ritual. However, this
“masculine–feminine dichotomy” only holds up if there is a feminine ele-
ment against which the masculine is counterposed. That is, we would e xpect
17 For a history of the discussion, see Peled 2010a: 71–72. The additional suggestions for the
meaning of lulimi cited by Peled (74–75) are not entirely persuasive, as he notes. However,
I do not think we can avoid a connection to the stag god, given the use of Sum. LU.LIM
(Akk. lulimmu) in Hittite contexts to designate deer supporting a god on a stag (Collins
2003: 81; see Haas 1994: 450 n.10 for the suggestion that the LAMMA lulim(m)i is a stag
god). Peled (2010a, 2010b: 624–626) interprets the entire ritual as a treatment for passive
homosexuality, an interpretation with which I cannot agree on the basis of the evidence
as a whole. See Collins (forthcoming) and n. 21 below.

462 Collins
the feminine (symbolized, e.g., by spindle and distaff) to be taken away be-
fore the masculine (symbolized by the chariot, bow, and quiver) can be re-
stored. Instead, these objects were probably selected for the rite because
they are the possessions that are most intimately linked to the ritual patron;
they are his identity. We have parallels for this in other Hittite rituals, for
example, Pupuwanni’s ritual, where the possessions of both the sorcerer
and his victim are recreated in clay,18 and in Ḫuwarlu’s ritual, where threads
are tied to the parts of the royal palace on behalf of the king and queen.19
Anniwiyani’s rite is clearly not sexual, but rather seeks to treat objects that
are central to the identity or source of power of the ritual patron.
– Finally, the presence of the DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara. However, she per-
forms no role in the ritual that could be construed as sexual in nature. Her
presence becomes “sexual” only if one has already determined that the ritu-
al has to do with sexuality.
Of course, once one decides on a sexual interpretation, then it is possible to
apply sexual interpretations to just about everything in the ritual: the bird be-
comes the dove of Ishtar (Bawanypeck 2005: 195), and so forth.
I would like to suggest a different interpretation. The fashioning and burial
of images of birds that were observed during augury (§§2, 11), the roasting of
grains (§2), the tying and cutting of threads (§§3, 5), the placement of the rit-
ual materials beneath the patient’s bed overnight (§4), the sacrifice of a puppy
and a goat (§§6–10), the passing through a gate (§§7–11), and the taking of or-
acles to approve the next location of the ritual (§13) are all features that Anni-
wiyani’s ritual shares with Ḫuwarlu’s ritual, also belonging to western Anatolia.
Ḫuwarlu is an augur whose ritual is designed as a response to an inauspicious
omen, and I think that Anniwiyanni’s ritual has the same purpose. The central
role of the augurs, and of the oracle birds in particular, strongly supports this.
Even the fact that Anniwiyanni is identified as the mother of an augur suggests
that the ritual has everything to do with bird oracles.
18 IBoT 2.115++ obv. 8–12, 15–18 (CTH 408.B.1): “[Whe]n in the evening the sun is still [up],
they prepare a clay figure of the ritual client. [And] they prepare clay figures of his gods,
his wagons, [his] horse[s, and] hi[s slaves]. And [they] arrange the figurines inside on the
right ašara-.… [They fashion] a clay image of the sorcerer. They also make his gods, his
slaves, his wagons and [his] hor[ses] out of clay. They arrange it inside (the ritual patron’s)
house next to the pillar.”
19 KBo 4.2+ obv. 27–30, 33–36 (CTH 398): “§6 She ties a white (strand of wool) twice to the
king and queen—their hands, feet, middles, and to their necks, and she cuts it off twice.
At the four corners of the palace, at the threshold, the wooden doorbolt, lower and upper,
(she ties). … §7 She also ties red wool to the king and queen—their hands, feet, middles,
and their necks—one time. She ties (it) one time to the four corners of the palace, the
threshold of the gate, (and) the wooden doorbolt, below and above.”

Augury is a tool of kings, and the participation of a group of augurs affirms

the official nature of this ritual. The chariot of war belonging to the ritual pa-
tron further signals its elite context.20 This does not suggest a private citizen
struggling with sexual matters. Rather, it could be the augurs who were in need
of purification stemming from the inauspicious omens that they had
observed—omens that could also have impacted the ritual patron, though in a
different way. The dichotomy embodied in the divine/demonic epithets lulimi-
and innarawant- could simply be that between (a perceived) failure (on the
part of the augurs) and success, encapsulated in the latter term.21 There is
nothing to connect this ritual with sexuality, never mind homosexuality, and
its goal may simply have been to gird the ritual patron against the effects of the
inauspicious omen and to purge the augurs of the “weakness” that resulted in
it in the first place.
3 Anniwiyanni #2
The DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara appears again in Anniwiyanni’s second ritual

on the same tablet. However, this second ritual has nothing at all to do with ei-
ther sexuality or augury, suggesting that her presence in the first ritual (and for
that matter in Paškuwatti’s ritual) is not as sexually suggestive as has been
assumed. The second ritual, “When they invoke the Protective Deity kurša”, is
an invocation describing a series of offerings and a ritual meal that unfold
over four days. The “sacred daughter” once again recites the key incantation
(§§23–24):
“But the galaktar and parḫuena she binds within the fleece of the sheep
and gives it to the “sacred daughter.” The “sacred daughter” wails as she
speaks as follows: ‘Come in, O Protective Deity of the kurša, and be kind
to us and be pleasant to us. Let go of fury, anger, and sullenness. Just as
20 Bawanypeck (2005: 192–93) has already noted that the ritual patron must be a man of high
military status. In light of this, Hutter’s (2003: 238) statement that both Paškuwatti and
Anniwiyani were performed for “private” persons requires qualification.
21 But see Collins (forthcoming) for a detailed discussion of the conflicting evidence and a
suggestion that the roles of the LAMMA lulimi- and LAMMA innarawant- have been re-
versed, whereby the lulimi-, like the LAMMA kurša, is a beneficent stag god (thus vindi-
cating Haas 1994: 450 n. 10) and the innarawant- deities are malevolent beings, as they are
in Zarpiya’s ritual, and are comparable with the IMIN.IMIN.BI and šalawana-deities who
serve as malevolent counterpoints to the LAMMA kurša in the LAMMA rituals (CTH
433.2 and 433.3 resp.).

464 Collins
this chaff has ceased to exist for the plowman, so let fury, anger, and sul-
lenness cease to exist for you, O Protective Deity of the kurša.’”
VBoT 24 iii 31–45.
4 Ammā
Ammā’s Ritual (CTH 456.2.1) has recently been reconstructed by Fuscagni

(2014). In the ritual, Ammā is identified as the Wise Woman of the Sun God,
and she was probably dedicated to the temple of the Sun God. Ammā’s ritual
offers some key insights into the others discussed here. The ritual is a purifica-
tion that takes place at a river. The gender of the client is unknown, and pre-
sumably could have been either male or female. Three separate rites can
partially be reconstructed. In the first, the client stands on a bridge placed over
a pit into which has been placed a trussed pig while Ammā recites a series of
incantations. The Sun God is asked to judge in the client’s favor.
§5′′ “Sun God my lord, king of heaven, the ritual patron has now com-
pleted (the ritual). Further, the priest, the augur, the wise woman, and
the seeress (are present). (The ritual patron) went to the mountain; she/
he went to the meadow, and no one sustained her/him. §6′′ “And now
she/he has come again to you, O Sun God, king of heaven, in humility. You
O Sun God are king in heaven, and you are the shepherd of humanity.
You judge the case of humanity, O king of heaven. Who is oppressed by
something, you O Sun God, king of heaven, continually sustain her/
him!”22
In the second, Ammā places a figurine of a frog wearing a woman’s headdress

on the client’s head. Incantation: “What Ammā, the Wise Woman has left
above, should Ammā, the woman (var. mother) of the Sun God, the Wise
Woman,23 take it down from him?” Grain, dough, and bread are then scattered
before a piglet and the rest thrown into the river.
Once these activities are completed, a young girl (MUNUSKI.SIKIL) is brought
in. The ritual patron takes her by the hand and Ammā begins another incanta-
tion. Unfortunately, the context is fragmentary:
22 KUB 36.83 i 8–15++ with duplicates; edition: Fuscagni 2014; translation by the author.
23 The duplicate has “the woman of the deity”, and omits reference to the Wise Woman alto-
gether. For the “mother of the deity”, see Taggar-Cohen 2006: 335–368.

§21′′′′′ (B iii! 17–21)

Biii!17 [n]u ki-iš-ša-an me-ma-i dUTU BE-LÍ-Y[A ka-a-ša(?)]
Biii!18 [M]UNUSKI.SIKIL nu ka-a-aš MUNUSKI.SIKIL ma-a[-
Biii!19 ⌈Ú⌉-UL-za LÚ-n[a?-aš?] ⌈an⌉-ta-ga-a[n …]
Biii!20 [ o ]-x-aš ke-e-e[l Š]A MUNUSKI.[SIKIL …]
Biii!21 [š]u-up-pí-ša(-) […]
“Oh Sun God my lord, [here?] is a young girl. This young girl [… she]
does not […] the loins? (antaka) [of?] a man. [… o]f this young gi[rl …]
the purity(?) …”
We have once again an incantation recited in a broken context and this puz-
zling word antaka. And to make things worse, the text is broken from this point
and we cannot know what happens next. But imagining a male client calls up
a very different version of subsequent events than imagining a female client.
If we assume the client who takes the girl’s hand is male, then we might be in-
clined also to assume that the man referred to in the incantation is that same
client and all the sexual innuendo that goes with that. If we imagine instead a
female client—and I think the prevalence of pigs in the ritual suggests this24—
another possibility becomes evident, namely, that the incantation is simply a
declaration of the girl’s ritual power, which is in her lack of sexual activity with
men. The taking of the (female) client’s hand then becomes a (sexually) inno-
cent ritual gesture. What the incantation does seem to confirm for us, though,
is exactly this—that her presexuality is the source of her ritual power.
5 Conclusions
In light of the above discussion, I submit the following conclusions. First,

DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara is a religious title, perhaps even denoting a girl
living under the protection of her father, who is dedicated for a delimited
period of time to religious service. In patriarchal societies, virginity is highly
prized: its value lay in what one could sell it for (in marriage). We might even
imagine that the participation of these girls in the cult was a source of honor
for their families and a way of advertising their purity.
The young girls in these rituals serve as ritual assistants. Their duties include
reciting incantations; conveying the ritual materials; and performing actions
that advance the ritual. Their ritual power and value lies in their virginity, as
24 On the connection between women and pigs, see Collins 2006, 2016.

466 Collins
Ammā’s incantation seems to indicate explicity. Though Ammā’s ritual uses

the general term KI.SIKIL, the similarity to the episode in Paškuwatti suggests
its functional equivalence in this context. The DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara
would also have been a KI.SIKIL (but not vice versa).
Finally, while (or because) their sexual status may be a prerequisite to the
specialized role that they play, their virginity remains unaffected in these ritu-
als. Whatever the meaning of the incantation in Paškuwatti, it has only meta-
phorically to do with the ritual actors. Virginity is not renewable and would not
have been something given away lightly. The girl leaves the ritual as she en-
tered it—pure and untouched.
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468 Collins
Akten des religionsgeschichtlichen Symposiums “Kleinasien und angrenzende Gebiete

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Chapter 24
Venus in Furs: Sappho fr. 101 Voigt between East and

West
Alexander Dale
Abstract
This paper builds on the work of the late Itamar Singer, who in 2008 identified the
ṢĀRIPŪTU-men of the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter as purple dyers, who were sent by the
Hittite king (most likely Muwatalli ii) or Manapa-Tarḫunta to offer tribute of purple-
dyed anathemata to an important deity on Lazpa / Lesbos. I examine a fragment of
Sappho that mentions purple fabrics being sent to Aphrodite from Phocaea on the
coast of Asia Minor to Lesbos (fr. 101 Voigt), which contains the corrupt word
†καγγόνων†. Through an examination of a passage in Oppian’s Halieutica (a hexameter
poem of the late second century ad in five books dedicated to the art of fishing), as
well as entries in the Greek etymologica and lexica, I demonstrate that the corrupt
word in Sappho is likely a cognate of γάγγαμον ‘net used for catching purple-fish’,
γαγγαμεύς ‘purple-fisher / purple dyer’, a word which Neumann (1961) has argued is a
loanword from Luwian, cognate with Hittite kank- ‘to hang’ < *k̂enk-. I thus suggest that
our fragment of Sappho, datable to the late 7th/early 6th century bc, provides evi-
dence for the continuation of a votive practice from the Late Bronze Age into the ar-
chaic Greek world, namely the dedication of purple-dyed fabrics to a deity on Lesbos
made by purple-dyers from the Anatolian mainland. I then contextualize this within
the framework of the increasing evidence for Lesbos as a locus of Anatolian and Greek
interaction from the LBA through to the archaic Greek period.
Keywords
Hittite – Luwian – Ancient Greek – Sappho – Lesbos – cultural exchange

470 Dale
Athenaeus 9. 410d–f preserves four corrupt lines of Sappho, providing wel-

come context for the exiguous fragment: Σαπφὼ δ’ ὅταν λέγῃ ἐν τῷ πέμπτῳ τῶν
μελῶν πρὸς τὴν Ἀφροδίτην
χερρόμακτρα δὲ †καγγόνων†
πορφύραι †καταυταμενἀ-
τατιμάϲειϲ† ἔπεμψ’ ἀπὺ Φωκάαϲ
δῶρα τίμια †καγγόνων†
… κόσμον λέγει κεφαλῆς τὰ χειρόμακτρα, ὡς καὶ Ἑκαταῖος (FGrHist 1 F 358)

δηλοῖ … “γυναῖκες δ’ ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἔχουσι χειρόμακτρα”
1 καγγόνων del. Neue, Ahrens : κὰκ κομᾶν Ahrens post Seidler (κὰκ κόμων)
: Μαιόνων vel Ἰαόνων Lobel 2 πόρφυρα Ahrens κὰτ ἀύτμενα Lobel :
καταΰτμενα Maas 3 τὰ τοι Μ⟨ν⟩ᾶϲιϲ Wilamowitz 4 κὰγ γόνων Neue : κὰκ
κόμων Seidler : Μαόνων Gallavotti
When Sappho says in her fifth book of lyrics to Aphrodite “cloths … with
purple dye … sent from Phocaea prized gifts…,” she says the χειρόμακτρα
are an adornment of the head, as Hecataeus also makes clear… “women
wear χειρόμακτρα on their heads.”
The content as can thus far be determined is that someone from Phocaea has
sent, presumably to Aphrodite, purple-dyed cloths (possibly veils) that are
most likely meant as a dedication or votive offering. λέγει in Athenaeus should
indicate that it was explicit in Sappho’s text that χειρόμακτρα (lit. a hand-cloth)
meant head-coverings, a usage also (καὶ) confirmed by Hecataeus. The purpose
of this article is to advance the conjecture γαγγομῶν ‘murex catchers’ or
‘purple-dyers’ in lines 1 and 4. However, before doing so it will be necessary to
review the Hittite connections of Lesbos in the second millennium bc, as well
as the production of purple dye in antiquity.
1 The Purple-Dyers of Lazpa1
The history of Lesbos (Hittite Lazpa) in the Bronze Age is frustratingly opaque.
At one point, it seems fairly certain that the island was within the Anatolian
1 The following two paragraphs, which make no claim to originality, rely upon Itamar Singer’s
masterful reinterpretation of the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter (Singer 2008).

Venus in Furs: Sappho fr. 101 Voigt between East and West 471
sphere, a dependency of Wiluša.2 Yet it has recently been argued that Lesbos
was one of the islands disputed between the kings of Hatti and Aḫḫiyawa in
KUB 26.91, from which it would follow that in the 15th century bc, and possibly
through the 14th century and into the 13th, Lesbos was a possession of
Aḫḫiyawa.3 One of the few Hittite documents in the archives at Boğazköy
(Ḫattuša) that explicitly names Lazpa is the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter, sent by
Manapa-Tarḫunta, the king of the Šeḫa River Land,4 to a Hittite king, most
likely Muwatalli ii.5 The issue of relevance for us is a delegation of ṢĀRIPŪTU-
men who were captured on Lazpa by Piyamaradu, a sometime ally of the
Aḫḫiyawans and constant thorn in the side of the Hittites,6 and brought before
his son-in-law Atpa, whom Piyamaradu had set up as the ruler of Milawanda
(Miletos); they protested their innocence of any crime, saying that they were
emissaries (arkammanaliuš) who had travelled over the sea to render tribute
(arkamman). They were eventually released, but the incident was a cause of
extreme embarrassment for the Hittite Great King.
Many points that were obscure in the letter have now been clarified by Sing-
er (2008), who has not only identified the ṢĀRIPŪTU-men as purple-dyers,7
but has also established that they were sent by the Hittite king or Manapa-
Tarḫunta to offer tribute of purple-dyed8 anathemata to an important deity on
Lazpa. The Manapa-Tarḫunta letter does not inform us of the identity of this
2 Houwink ten Cate 1983–1984: 33–79; Bryce apud Melchert 2003: 38. For archaeological con-
nections between LBA Lesbos and the Troad, see Spencer 1995: 273.
3 See Teffeteller 2013. KUB 26.91, written by a king of Aḫḫiyawa to a king of Hatti, records a
dispute over several unnamed islands which the Aḫḫiyawan king claims had been given to
his great-grandfather by a king of Aššuwa as part of a marriage alliance. The author of KUB
26.91 accuses the addressee of having taken the islands from him, the most plausible histori-
cal context for which would be Muwatalli ii’s campaigns in northwest Anatolia. For other
possible connections of Muwatalli’s campaign with Lesbos, see also Dale 2015.
4 For the LBA geography of western Asia Minor, and the identification of the Šeḫa River Land
with the Hermos valley (possibly including all the lands up to and including the Kaikos val-
ley), see Hawkins 1998, esp. pp. 23–24.
5 KUB 19.5 (vat 7454 + Bo 2561) + KBo 19.79 (1481/u) = CTH 191 = 100 in Hoffner 2009: 293–296.
The letter discusses Manapa-Tarḫunta’s failure to join a Hittite expedition to the Land of
Wiluša, before going into detail about Piyamaradu’s attack on Lazpa and his removal of the
LÚ.MEŠ
ṢARIPŪTI (see below) to Milawanda.
6 For Piyamaradu, likely an Arzawan prince, see Starke 1997; Hawkins 1998.
7 Following on Lackenbacher (2002: 95–96), who first identified the ṢĀRIPŪTU of various Ak-
kadian texts as purple-dyers. Singer’s identification of the letter’s LÚ.MEŠṢARIPŪTI as purple-
dyers is accepted by Hoffner in his recent edition.
8 Luwian / Hittite argamma(n)- means ‘tribute’, but if as seems likely the word is cognate with
Akkadian argamannu (see Puhvel HED s.v. arkamma(n)-; Singer 2008: 22–23, 31), which also
has the explicit meaning of ‘purple-dyed wool’, then Singer is most likely right in saying that
this is the meaning we find here, and that arkammanaliuš might simply be a Hittite render-
ing of LÚ.MEŠṢARIPŪTI.

472 Dale
deity, but Singer (2008: 32) has adduced another text that sheds light on the
question. In KUB 5. 6 i. 6–13, a Hittite king (probably Ḫattušili iii) makes an
oracular enquiry of the Deity of Aḫḫiyawa and the Deity of Lazpa. In the first
instance, the association of the two suggests a possible Greek connection for
the Deity of Lazpa. Furthermore, the same text makes another oracular en-
quiry, this time at the opposite end of the Hittite world, at Aštata on the middle
Euphrates. The deity’s name, again not specified, is known from other sources
to be Išḫara,9 a goddess associated with Ištar,10 the latter of whom Ḫattušili
served as priest.11 As Singer (2008: 32) states, “This unique reference [Ḫattušili’s
petition to the Deity of Lazpa] shows that Lazpa, the only eastern Aegean is-
land explicitly mentioned in the Hittite texts, was the abode of some impor-
tant deity, perhaps an early hypostasis of Aphrodite,” and thus that it was this
goddess to whom the ṢĀRIPŪTU-men were offering purple cloth.
Thus both the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter and the text of Sappho provide evi-
dence for the dedication of purple fabrics to a goddess on Lesbos. However,
before we can proceed further, we need to consider the production of purple
dye in antiquity, and in particular how the murex that produced the dye was
caught.
2 Purple Dye in Antiquity
Purple dye was extracted from the hypobranchial gland of several species of
marine mollusc, and particularly that of the murex (= bolinus) brandaris, a spe-
cies found in warm shallow waters in various parts of the world, and particu-
larly in the Mediterranean. It was a labour- and resource-intensive process, and
a vast number of molluscs were needed to produce even a minuscule amount
of dye: twelve thousand murex shells were needed to dye the trim of a single
garment.12 In the Bronze Age, Ugarit on the Levantine coast was an important
9 Singer 2002: 73–75 with n. 17.

10 Išḫara is primarily a goddess of sickness, and was part of the Kannesite pantheon that the
Hittites adopted from the Assyrians at Kültepe-Kaneš (cf. Taracha 2009: 27–31). However,
in the tablets of Alalaḫ (Tell Atchana) vi and vii IŠTAR can represent Išḫara, and it is clear
that in the cultural orbit of northern Syria an association existed between Ištar and
Išḫara; see Miller 2004: 376–377.
11 Cf. The Apology of Ḫattušili §3, i 9–21, pp. 4–5 in Otten 1981.
12 Reese 1987: 204; Singer 2008: 25; Burke 1999: 81 with n. 42. Theopompus tells us that in
Colophon purple-dye (or perhaps the dyed garments) was equal to its weight in silver,
FGrHist 115 F 117 ἰσοστάσιος γὰρ ἦν ἡ πορφύρα πρὸς ἄργυρον ἐξεταζομένη; cf. Aesch. Ag.

centre of production for purple-dyed fabrics, although recent archaeological

investigations show that the dye was already produced on Crete in the Middle
Minoan period (1700–1600 bc), possibly predating the Levantine production of
purple dye that was later to become associated with the Phoenicians.13 The
adjective po-pu-re-ja (πορφύρεα) occurs in the Linear B tablets from Knossos, in
one instance qualifying cloth (pu-ka-ta-ri-ja ‘double cloaks’),14 while another
appears to read po-pu-re-jo … wa-na-ka-te-ro (‘of the Wanax’), perhaps ‘royal
purple’.15 Large deposits of murex shells discovered by Schliemann in his exca-
vations at Troy also attest to its production on the coast of northern Asia Minor
in the Bronze Age.16 Aristotle, HA 547a4–5 discusses the quality of ‘purple-fish’
(πορφύραι) in the vicinity of Sigeion in the Troad in the classical period. By this
time the production of purple dye is attested on most of the Aegean islands,
including Lesbos, where large quantities of murex shells have been found at
Mytilene at an industrial complex of the Hellenistic period.17 In the archaic
period Lydia was renowned for its luxury, which included an abundance of
costly purple-dyed fabrics.18 We do not know where Lydia obtained its dye or
garments from, but it seems likely that it would have exploited the resources
close at hand rather than exclusively import materials at greater cost from the
Levant.
Pliny, NH 9. 69 discusses how ‘purple-fish’ (purpurae) were caught: capiun-
tur autem purpurae parvulis rarisque textu veluti nassis in alto iactus ‘purple-
fish are caught with a small woven net similar to a wicker trap thrown into the
water’. The nassa was a wicker basket with a narrow neck which would be
baited and lowered into the sea. rarisque textu most likely means the net was
comprised of several layers of loosely spaced meshes,19 which when combined
959–961 ἔστιν θάλασσα, τίς δέ νιν κατασβέσει; / τρέφουσα πολλῆς πορφύρας ἰσάργυρον /
κηκῖδα παγκαίνιστον εἱμάτων βαφάς, ‘there is the sea—who could quench it?—breeding
an ever-renewing ooze of abundant purple, precious as silver, for dying robes’, which
might indicate that ‘purple worth its weight in silver’ was a common expression.
13 Reese 1987: 205–206; Ruscillo 1998: 392; Burke 1999: 81; Singer 2008: 27.
14 Kn L 474; 224 in Ventris and Chadwick 1973: 321.
15 Kn X 976. po-pu-re-jo in this context might instead refer to ‘purple-dye workers’, or a
‘purple-dye workshop’, see Palaima 1997: 407; Singer 2008: 27.
16 Schliemann 1880: 318; more recently Korfmann 2001: 503.
17 Singer 2008: 28; Williams and Williams 1987: 11.
18 Croesus dedicated purple garments to Apollo at Delphi, Hdt. 1. 50. Xenophanes reports
that the inhabitants of Colophon adopted the habit of wearing purple (as well as many
other tokens of luxury) from the Lydians, fr. 3 IEG2. Cf. also Alcm. fr. 1. 64–68 PMG.
19 Thus Lewis and Short, citing this passage.

474 Dale
formed a closely knit snare, and was most likely fastened around a metal ring
(see below) to form an aperture.
Greek has many words for fishing nets, nearly all of which occur in a passage
of Oppian’s Halieutica, a hexameter poem of the late second century ad in five
books dedicated to the art of fishing, 3. 79–84:
δίκτυα δ’ αὖτ’ ἄλλοισι μέλει πλέον ἐντύνεσθαι·

τῶν τὰ μὲν ἀμφίβληστρα, τὰ δὲ γρῖφοι καλέονται,
γάγγαμά τ’ ἠδ’ ὑποχαὶ περιηγέες ἠδὲ σαγῆναι·
ἄλλα δὲ κικλήσκουσι καλύμματα, σὺν δὲ σαγήναις
πέζας καὶ σφαιρῶνας ὁμοῦ σκολιόν τε πάναργον·
μυρία δ’ αἰόλα τοῖα δολορραφέων λίνα κόλπων.
Others prefer to array nets; and of these there are those called casting-
nets, and those called drawing-nets—drag-nets (γάγγαμα) and round
bag-nets and seines. Others they call cover-nets, and, with the seines,
there are those called ground-nets and ball-nets and the crooked trawl:
innumerable are the various sorts of such crafty-bosomed nets (trans.
Mair).
The scholiast on Hal. 3. 81 provides the following definition: γαγγάμαι· γαγγάμη

λίνος παχὺς δικτυωτὸς, σιδήρῳ κύκλῳ περιεχόμενος … καὶ γαγγαμευτὴς ὁ τῇ
γαγγάμῳ ἐργαζόμενος, ‘γαγγάμη is a dense-woven lattice-net, wrapped around a
metal circle … and a γαγγαμευτής is one who works with a γαγγάμη’.20 Hesy-
chius in turn provides the following gloss, γ 1036 Latte: γωγγάμη· ἐν ᾧ οἱ ἁλιεῖς
συνάγουσι τὰ ὄστρεα. εἴρηται καὶ γαγγάμη, ‘γωγγάμη· in which fishermen catch
oysters; also called γαγγάμη.’ The Greek word ὄστρεον can mean specifically
oysters, or more generally all molluscs, including the purple-producing murex;
indeed, ὄστρεον can also be used of the purple pigment produced from the
murex,21 just as πορφύρα can mean either the ‘purple-fish’, or the dye extracted
from it.22 We can thus establish that a—if not the23—Greek word for the net
20 The scholiast seems to have mistakenly taken the neuter nom./acc. pl. γάγγαμα (guaran-
teed by metre at Hal. 81) as a dialect form of a fem. nom. sing. γαγγάμη. Whether the
feminine form genuinely existed alongside γάγγαμον or originated through a misunder-
standing such as Oppian’s commentator makes, is unclear. Whatever its origin, it contin-
ued in use in the Pontic Greek dialect of the Black Sea coast into the 20th century (Mair
1928: xliii).
21 Arist. HA 548a12; Pl. Crat. 424d; Callix. 2.
22 Fish: Soph. fr. 504 TrGF (see next note); Arist. HA 528a10. Dye: Aesch. Ag. 960 (above, n. 12);
Hdt. 3.22; Pl. Leg. 847c.
23 Thus also κημός, as at Soph. fr. 504 κημοῖσι πλεκτοῖς πορφύρας φθείρει γένος, ‘in woven creels
he destroys the race of the murex’ (trans. Lloyd-Jones) with Σ VΘAld. Ar. Eq. 1150a (our

used in catching the molluscs used in the extraction of purple dye was
γάγγαμον, the description of which at Σ Opp. Hal. 3. 81 neatly fits Pliny’s de-
scription of a murex net at NH 9. 69.24
The word γάγγαμον merits attention for another reason. Aside from its
occurrence in Oppian, the late antique lexicographers, and Byzantine etymo-
logica, it crops up in one other passage of Greek literature. At Aeschylus,
Agamemnon 355–361 the chorus describes the (metaphorical) net that Zeus
and Night cast over Troy to ensure its utter destruction:
ὦ Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ καὶ Νὺξ φιλία

μεγάλων κόσμων κτεάτειρα,
ἥτ’ ἐπὶ Τροίας πύργοις ἔβαλες
στεγανὸν δίκτυον, ὡς μήτε μέγαν
μήτ’ οὖν νεαρῶν τιν’ ὑπερτελέσαι
μέγα δουλείας
γάγγαμον ἄτης παναλώτου.
Lord Zeus and friendly Night, gainer of great glories, who cast the dense-
covering net over the defences of Troy, that neither man nor any child
might escape the great net (γάγγαμον) of all-ensnaring enslaving ruin.
Fraenkel suggests25 that in Aeschylus’ day γάγγαμον might have had a more
general meaning as a hunting net, rather than specifically a net for fishing. This
was certainly not the case for Sappho (to whom we shall presently return), and
furthermore the word is carefully and aptly chosen in Aeschylus. The layered
meshes of the γάγγαμον were designed to catch small molluscs, and the murex
brandaris grows to no longer that 60–90 mm (2⅓–3½ inches). That such a fine
net is meant is further suggested by στεγανόν, which in addition to ‘roof or cov-
ering’ can mean ‘closely woven’, even ‘water-proof’, a sense which Fraenkel
source for the fragment): (κημός) πλέγμα τι ἐκ σχοινίων γιγνόμενον ὅμοιον ἠθμῷ, ᾧ τὰς
πορφύρας λαμβάνουσιν, εἰς ὃ αἱ πορφύραι καὶ τὰ κογχύλια εἰσέρπουσιν. ‘(κημός) a plaited [ves-
sel] of small strings similar to a strainer, with which they catch purple-fish, into which
the purple-fish and shell-fish crawl.’ Also Hesychius κ 2514 Latte: κημός· πλεκτὸν ἀγγεῖον,
ἐν ᾧ λαμβάνουσιν τὰς πορφύρας, ‘κημός: a plaited vessel, with which they catch purple-fish’.
Thus the κημός might be an actual wicker basket (i.e. much like an ἠθμός), although the
scholiast’s description, where σχοίνιον has its full diminutive force, recalls Pliny’s parvulis
rarisque textu veluti nassis, suggesting it might instead be a dense net like the γάγγαμον.
24 Strabo 7. 3. 18 describes the inhabitants around Lake Maeotis (Sea of Azov) digging out
fish trapped in the ice with a γαγγάμη, which certainly cannot be a net or wicker basket.
For the sense, cf. Hesychius γ 10 Latte γαγγάμη· σαγήνη ἢ δίκτυον ἁλιευτικόν. καὶ σκεῦος
γεωργικὸν ὅμοιον τῇ κρεάγρᾳ, ‘γαγγάμη: seine or fishing net; also an agricultural implement
similar to a meat-hook.’
25 On lines 358–9, p. 190.

476 Dale
denies in this passage.26 But it is exactly the sense required, a net so

densely-woven that not only an adult (μέγαν) but even a child (νεαρῶν τιν(α))
could not escape through its meshes, a net that is πανάλωτος ‘all-catching’.
3 Purple Garments from Phocaea
One of the few things that we can make out from the text of Sappho fr. 101 is
that the purple offerings have been sent from Phocaea, an Ionian outpost on
the Aeolic coast of Asia Minor, between the mouths of the Hermos and Kaikos
rivers. The Manapa-Tarḫunta letter does not specify where the ṢĀRIPŪTU-
men travelled to Lazpa from, but Houwink ten Cate (1983–1984: 46) already
suggested that they came from the Šeḫa River land,27 which occupied the Her-
mos valley down to the coast and extended north possibly as far as the Kaikos
valley, corresponding exactly with the area of later Greek Phocaea.28
That we should find the dedication of purple-dyed fabrics to a goddess on
Lesbos which have been sent from across the sea in a Hittite text of the 13th
century and a Greek song of the 6th century is in itself striking. However, we
can say more. The critical link here is the ṢĀRIPŪTU-men from the Manapa-
Tarḫunta letter. What the letter attests is not just a dedication of dyed fabrics
to a deity on Lesbos, but that the purple-dyers themselves are instrumental in
performing the dedication.
We can now return to Sappho fr. 101. The metre is uncertain.29 Voigt suggests
a three-line stanza of two glyconics followed by a glyconic with dactylic expan-
sion (gl||gl||gld|||),30 a form attested elsewhere in Sappho at fr. 94. Lines 1 and 4
scan as glyconics, as does 2 with the minor correction of καταυταμενἀ to
καταΰτμενα or κὰτ ἀύτμενα. ἔπεμψ’ ἀπὺ Φωκάαϲ in 3 is compatible with the end
of a gld, and at the beginning we would need ○○–⏑. For †τατιμάϲειϲ† we might
consider two possibilities,31 a form of τιμάω (τοὶ τίμημμι δ’ ?), or perhaps more
suitable, given the use of χερρόμακτρα to mean head-coverings or veils, would
be ταινία (acc. pl. ταινίαις τε δ’ ?), a band worn about the head.
26 On line 358, pp. 188–189.

27 Singer 2008: 32 also favours a location on the coast of Asia Minor.
28 See n. 4 above.
29 That the fragment occurred in Sappho’s Fifth Book is of no help; while Books 1–3 were
homogeneous in metre, Book 5 contained many different metres, see Page 1955: 115; Dale
2011b: 61–62.
30 Line 4 would then be the beginning of a new stanza.
31 Wilamowitz’s Μ⟨ν⟩ᾶσις attempts to introduce a subject for ἔπεμψ’; however, the overt sub-
ject could easily have stood in the text preceding our line 1.

For the restoration of the critical word †καγγόνων† in lines 1 and 4, I suggest
the following. As noted above, two words are attested for one who works with
the γάγγαμον, γαγγαμεύς and γαγγαμευτής. Likewise, a purple-fisher can be
called πορφυρεύς or πορφυρευτής. On analogy with the form πορφυρᾶς
(=πορφυρεύς or πορφυροπώλης) found in inscriptions from Asia Minor,32 I
suggest we have γαγγόμων as a genitive plural of *γαγγομᾶς = γαγγαμεύς, a Les-
bian Aeolic word for someone who works with a murex-net / a purple-fisher or
indeed ‘purple-dyer’; note that aside from a few late attestations,33 there is no
word attested in Greek for someone who dyes purple robes aside from
πορφυρεύς. Given the tendency in Aeolic to raise α to ο, particularly, though not
exclusively, in proximity with a resonant, there is no need to read γαγγάμων
here. And to underscore the Anatolian connections of the passage of Sappho
even further, the word γάγγαμον itself has long been suspected of being a loan
from Anatolia. Long ago Günter Neumann, comparing the Hittite verb kank-
‘to hang’ < PIE *k̂enk-, suggested a Luwian participle as the source of the loan.34
More recently, Craig Melchert (p.c.) has suggested that a Luwian neuter -m(m)
an- stem would provide a compelling formal source for the Greek neuter.35
This confluence of both language and ritual argue the case for the Anatolian
background of Sappho fr. 101 even more strongly, and furthermore single out
the Luwian culture of LBA Western Anatolia as an obvious locus for transmis-
sion and diffusion.
We can thus consider a provisional text, perhaps from a three-line stanza36
gl||gl||gld|||:
χερρόμακτρα δὲ γαγγόμων
πορφύρα καταΰτμενα
ταινίαις τε δ’ ἔπεμψ’ ἀπὺ Φωκάαϲ
δῶρα τίμια γαγγόμων
32 L. and J. Robert, REG 1970, Bull. Ép. no. 625, provide a full discussion of the attestations.
33 E.g. πορφυροβάφος at IDelos 400. 7 (2nd c. b.c.), Ath. 13. 604b.
34 Neumann 1961: 100.
35 This entails positing a velar stop in the Luwian source of γάγγαμον, which in turn entails
a non-fronting environment in the root (for the outcome of the palatovelars in Luwic, see
now Melchert 2012, in part superseding Melchert 1987). But, as Melchert (p.c.) points out,
an o-grade -m(m)en- stem would be problematic, and thus we should suppose that the
allophony of *kank- < *k̂ónk- vs. *zank- (/tsank/) < *k̂énk- and/or *k̂n̥k- was levelled in fa-
vour of *kank-. For the derivational type, see Melchert 2007/2008 and 2014. As for the
initial velar in Greek, the κ in the transmitted text might reflect the original voicing, with
γ the result of secondary assimilation.
36 So far, all fragments attested for Book Five are in three-line stanzas, cf. Page 1955: 115.

478 Dale
Veils from the purple-dyers, purple and scented, and headbands s/he sent
from Phocaea, the precious gifts of the purple-dyers.
Textual notes:
1–4 γαγγόμων…γαγγόμων: The possibility that one γαγγόμων has intruded into
the text at either line 1 or 4, due to dittography or an intrusive gloss, cannot be
excluded. However, repetition for one stylistic effect or another is not uncom-
mon in Sappho; indeed, Demetrius Eloc. 141 (p. 33 Radermacher) commends
Sappho’s use of repetition when quoting fr. 103(a) Ἔσπερε πάντα φέρων ὄσα
φαίνολις ἐσκέδασ’ αὔως, / †φέρεις ὄιν, φέρεις† αἶγα, φέρεις ἄπυ μάτερι παῖδα; cf.
δηὖτε and κὤττι at fr. 1.15–18; ὀνεμίγνυ[το and ὀνεμείχνυτο at fr. 44.24 and 30; and
the striking mixture of polyptoton and figura etymologica at fr. 105 ἄκρωι …
ἄκρον … ἀκροτάτωι; λελάθοντο … ἐκλελάθοντ’.
2 πορφύραι in Athenaeus would have to be dative of instrument, and ‘scented
with purple dye’ would not be an ideal reading (the production of purple
dye—though not the end product—was notorious for its revolting smell, cf.
Strabo 16. 2. 23; Singer 2008: 26). The phrase πορφύρ[α] καταΰτ[με]να occurs at
Sappho fr. 44. 9. Page (1955: 69) allows the form πορφύρᾱ < πορφύρεα in fr. 44
while assuming the dative singular of the transmitted reading in 101 on the
basis of fr. 44 falling into the category of ‘abnormal’ poems espoused by Lobel
and himself. However, as the distinction between ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’
poems of Sappho has largely been invalidated (see Bowie 1981: 47–137), the
‘epicising’ contraction πορφύρᾱ can be allowed in the present passage as well.
3 ἔπεμψ’ could be either first or third person singular, but as ἔπεμψ’ ἀπὺ Φωκάαϲ
must mean that the items were sent from Phocaea, rather than that the speak-
er is simply dedicating objects that originated in Phocaea, the third person is
to be preferred, as nowhere else in her poetry does Sappho represent herself
(presuming that she is the speaker of this fragment) as travelling outside of
Lesbos. Φωκάαϲ < Φώκαια with characteristic Aeolic deletion of intervocalic
iota; thus the penult is short (cf. scansions such as Μυτιληνᾰωι at Sappho fr.
98(b). 3; ῎Υρρᾰον at Alc. fr. 129.13).
A great advantage of this restoration is that it does not rely on any correspon-
dence with the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter; dedications of purple robes to Aphro-
dite are an obvious choice, particularly given the prominence of the dyers in
the passage. At the same time, the correspondence with the dedication attest-
ed for Hittite Lazpa cannot go unnoticed. It is the cumulative weight of evi-
dence that argues the case: the Greek and Anatolian interests in LBA Lazpa; the
strong Anatolian elements in the material culture of the island in the Iron Age;
and the formal and geographic confluence of our Hittite and Greek texts. The

correspondence between our Hittite and Greek texts is of course not exact. In
the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter we find a delegation of purple-dyers t ravelling to
Lesbos to make the dedication, while in our fragment of Sappho the identity of
the person sending the head-coverings is unclear as the text stands. Perhaps
the items were sent by one of Sappho’s ‘circle’, some of whom had a tendency
to move on to pastures new—an Atthis perhaps, or a Gongyla, who has sent
back an item of Asian luxury to Aphrodite on Lesbos.37 Or perhaps the subject
of the lines is more closely connected to the murex-catchers / purple-dyers,
and thus the offerings are indeed gifts of the dyers; the phrase χερρόμακτρα δὲ
γαγγομῶν suggests that the dyers are more directly involved in the gift to Aph-
rodite than simply having been responsible for the dying of the fabric.
Either way, we are left with the conclusion that in the text of Sappho we
might find evidence for the continuance of a votive practice essentially un-
changed since the 13th century bc, the dedication of purple-dyed garments to
a deity on Lesbos from coastal Asia Minor, involving in some way the very
workers involved in the garments’ production. Recent re-evaluations of the ar-
chaeological record of Lesbos and Aeolis have emphasized the conservative
nature of the local culture, with many aspects of the material culture showing
little indication of change between the Late Bronze Age and the Archaic peri-
od.38 Above and beyond this, we have ever-growing evidence for the interac-
tion of Greek and Anatolian cultures in the spheres of language, myth, religion,
and poetics, from Hittites and Luwians in the Bronze Age through to the Lyd-
ians, Carians, and Lycians of the Classical period.39 The Lesbian poets in par-
ticular have proved to be fertile territory for identifying the deep and lasting
impact that Anatolia had on Greece.40 It is in precisely such a context that we
should expect to see evidence of the cultural syncretism between East and
West, Anatolians and Greeks, that is afforded us by Sappho, the short journey
37 In this scenario, we might even entertain a join between fr. 101 and 94, the only other Sap-
phic fragment in gl||gl||gld|||, in which Sappho laments the departure of a companion.
38 Spencer 1995: 276–7; Rose 2008.
39 There is a current revanchist tendency among some scholars towards recent work on
Greco-Anatolian, and particularly Luwian, cultural and linguistic contact and transmis-
sion. Indicative of this hypercritical ethos is Oreshko 2018, a work seemingly at pains to
deny any example of (primarily linguistic) contact between early Greece and Anatolia.
While scepticism is often a virtue, Oreshko’s patent agenda of disproving any and all con-
tact seems often to dictate his methodology and conclusions, with a result that is any-
thing but objective.
40 For the Luwian / Hittite underpinnings of the New Sappho, see Watkins 2007; for aspects
of Anatolian language and culture manifested in Alcaeus, see Dale 2011a; for the LBA con-
text of Anatolian and Greek interaction on Lesbos, see Teffeteller 2013.

480 Dale
from the coast to Lesbos made by these purple garments serving as a paradigm
for the ancient and continuing dynamic of the Aegeo-Anatolian interface.
πορφυρῆ Ἀφροδίτη
It remains to make a final point. As noted above, Singer suggests that A phrodite,
or an early hypostasis, was the unnamed deity to whom the ṢĀRIPŪTU-men
of the Manapa-Tarḫunta letter dedicate their purple-dyed goods, a conclusion
which is bolstered by the reading of Sappho fr. 101 proposed here. We might
still ask why Aphrodite (or an early hypostasis) was honoured with purple gar-
ments by the very men who made them in both the Bronze Age and the Ar-
chaic period. In addition to her primary function as a goddess of sexuality,
beauty, and fertility, Aphrodite was also a sea goddess. Sappho invokes her in
this role to pray for her brother’s safe return from Egypt at fr. 5; inscriptions at-
test dedications to her as εὔπλοια, πόντια, and λιμένια.41 Aphrodite was born
from the sea, when Kronos—in a myth with close Anatolian antecedents—
cast Ouranos’ severed testicles into the waters off Cythera, and she emerged
from the foam.42 From Homer onwards, the sea was given the epithet πορφύρεος,
which, whatever the relation of πορφύρα to πορφύρω,43 gave rise to epithets
such as ἁλιπόρφυρος ‘sea-purple’44 and παναλουργής ‘dyed through with purple’,
a hapax at Xenophanes fr. 3. 3 IEG2. It is presumably due to this nexus of asso-
ciations that Anacreon, an Ionian poet from Teos on the coast of Asia Minor
between Smyrna and Ephesus, invokes her, in a passage unparalleled in Greek
literature, as πορφυρῆ Ἀφροδίτη (PMG 357. 3).45 Given these various associa-
tions, there could be no more suitable deity for men whose livelihood depend-
ed on the produce of the sea to dedicate their wares to than Aphrodite.
Abbreviations
DELG Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, by P. Chantraine, 4 vols.,

Paris (1968–1980)
41 IG II2 2878; Paus. 2.34.11. See Pirenne-Delforge 1994: 433–439.

42 Hes. Th. 188–206. Thus the Greeks understood her name as ‘born from the foam’, οὕνεκ’ ἐν
ἀφρῷ θρέφθη, Th. 197–198.
43 See DELG s. vv. The latter is perhaps an intensive reduplicated form of φύρω ‘mix together,
confuse, disturb’, thus DELG.
44 Od. 6. 53, 13. 108, in both instances of garments; Alcm. fr. 26. 4 PMGF of a kingfisher.
45 If there was a perceived ambiguity between ‘purple’ and ‘swirling, disturbed’, the ambigu-
ity might be intentional in Anacreon’s appellation.

FGrHist Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, ed. F. Jacoby, Berlin (1923–).
IEG2 Iambi et Elegi Graeci, ed. M.L. West, 2nd ed., Oxford (1989–1991).
L-P Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta, ed. E. Lobel, D.L. Page, Oxford (1955).
PMG Poetae Melici Graeci, ed. D.L. Page, Oxford (1962).
PMGF Poetarum Melicorum Graecorum Fragmenta vol. i, ed. M. Davies, Oxford
(1991).
Voigt Sappho et Alcaeus, ed. A.-M. Voigt, Amsterdam (1971).
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the organisers and participants of the “Hrozný and Hittite”

conference for providing an engaging occasion on which to mark the cente-
nary of the decipherment of Hittite.
A previous version of this paper was presented at the Institute for the Study
of the Ancient World at New York University in 2011, and thanks are due to
Barbara Kowalzig, Ian Rutherford, and David Sider, whose acute comments
and suggestions have improved the final version. I am further obliged to Ron-
ald Kim, whose questions and corrections saved me from error and forced me
to clarify several points. Craig Melchert has been characteristically generous
with his knowledge. This small contribution to the study of Greek and Anato-
lian cultural exchange is dedicated to the memory of Itamar Singer.
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sa personnalité dans le panthéon archaïque et classique [Kernos, Supplément 4],
Athènes: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique.
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iterranean basin, ABSA 82, 201–206.
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399–430.
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AJA 102, 392.
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ford (eds.), Anatolian Interfaces: Hittites, Greeks, and their Neighbours. Proceedings of
an International Conference on Cross-Cultural Interaction, September 17–19, 2004,
Emory University, Atlanta, GA, Oxford: Oxbow, 21–43.
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ranean Institute Bulletin 1987, 10–11.

Chapter 25
A Problem of Meaning: Variations in Hittite

Landscape as Narrated in the Sun-God’s mugawar
(CTH 323)
Romina Della Casa
Abstract
Hittite “evocation rituals”,1 which broadly narrate how Anatolian gods hide or are hid-
den far from their natural environment, bring to mind a rich repertoire of images that
in different ways refer to a given landscape. In one of these rituals, traditionally titled
the “Disappearance of the Sun-god” (CTH 323), it is the presence of ḫaḫḫima- that
transforms the landscape, threatening its complete destruction. However, the question
of how ḫaḫḫima- affects the world is not easy to answer. A preliminary inconsistency
can be observed in the fact that, while modern translations of this narrative identified
ḫaḫḫima- with a “wintry agent”, etymological dictionaries tend to associate it with
“drought” and “withering”, as well as with summer heat. As a result of this discrepancy,
it is crucial to investigate how the nature of ḫaḫḫima- is described in CTH 323. Are the
changes suffered by the landscape unequivocally related to the presence of some kind
of “ice” or “frost”, as ḫaḫḫima- is usually translated? The present paper will focus on
these issues in order to determine whether traditional interpretations of CTH 323 find
the required textual support or if the text allows for a certain ambiguity. It will also
review key aspects of the text that can shed light on the meaning of the narrative as
well as that of ḫaḫḫima-.
Keywords
Hittite landscape – Sun-god – ḫaḫḫima- – mugawar
Broadly speaking, Hittite evocation rituals narrate how a god suddenly be-
comes enraged and hides far away from her/his natural environment,
magnifying a generalized crisis that is reflected in a rich repertoire of l andscape
1 For a definition of a Hittite mugawar, cf. CHD L-N: 324a.

A Problem of Meaning 485
imagery. When approaching the meaning of the Sun-god’s mugawar (CTH

323), it becomes relevant to assess how the landscape is affected when the so-
lar deity resides in a different medium from its own, in this case the Sea.2 The
main problem one faces in answering this type of question is related to our
current understanding of the term ḫaḫḫima-. In other words, what is ḫaḫḫima-?
What is the hazard that threatens to annihilate the entire world? Even if the
term ḫaḫḫima- is difficult to grasp, since the Sun-god’s new placement in the
narrative is in the Sea, it is generally interpreted that this new location is
marked by coldness. Therefore, ḫaḫḫima- tends to be associated with some
kind of wintry agent.
In this vein, F. Pecchioli Daddi and A. Polvani (1990: 61–62) argued, for in-
stance, that the disappearance of the Sun-god would be the consequence of a
more general dispute between the gods, probably between the Storm-god and
the Sea-god, the latter having fought indirectly through ḫaḫḫima- ‘ice’. Later
studies, such as H.A. Hoffner’s, also interpreted CTH 323 to mean that “with the
disappearance of the Sun the whole of nature is gripped by the paralysing
force of ḫaḫḫimaš ‘Frost’” (Hoffner 1998: 27; de Vries 1967: 13).3 Following the
same line of thought, V. Haas titled this mugawar “[e]in anatolischer Winter in
der Sprache des Mythos” (Haas 2006: 117). In brief, modern translations of CTH
323 revolve around ḫaḫḫima- being “Jack Frost,” “gelo” (in Italian), “hielo” (in
Spanish) and “frostige[s] Eis” (in German), except for E. Rieken et al. (2009a),
who translate it as “die Starre.” Even if this seems to be a coherent result of the
Sun-god’s absence, is it clear within the narrative?
At this point, it is important to point out the relationship between CTH 323
and CTH 322, a text known as the “Disappearance of the Sun-god, Telipinu and
the Daughter of the Sea-god”, where the Sun-god is brought down and hidden
by the Sea. Both CTH 323 and CTH 322 exhibit similar protagonists (the Sun-
god, the Storm-god, the Sea, the Daughter of the Sea, and Telipinu) which, if
related to the same plot, could suggest that CTH 322 follows CTH 323 (cf. Pec-
chioli Daddi and Polvani 1990: 61; Steitler 2017: 207–210).
If this is the case, in our intent to define ḫaḫḫima- and the plot of CTH 323,
we could safely associate the characteristics of the former with darkness and
2 It is worth noting that in comparison to other texts belonging to the evocation ritual genre,
the mugawar of the Sun-god (CTH 323) shows substantial differences. The presence of
ḫaḫḫima- is a clear example of this, since no other text of this genre presents a hazard with
the characteristics displayed by it. Furthermore, the Sun-god’s movement away from his
place (heaven) does not seem to be due to the deity’s rage (as in other evocation rituals), but
probably because of a more complex situation involving the Sea.
3 J. Tischler identified ḫaḫḫima- with “eine Krankheit, ‘Starrheit’?” (HHw: 34).

486 Della Casa
evil, which are the catastrophic effects brought on by the Sun-god’s absence. As
we read in CTH 322, after the Sea seized the Sun-god:
CTH 322.14
§ 2’
6 nu=kan KUR-e anda idālaw[ēšzi?]
7 […n]anankušzi
6 In the land it becomes ev[il],
7 […] it becomes [d]ark.
Along this line of thought, one would expect the Sun-god to represent good in
contrast to evil and light in contrast to darkness. Should we expect, then, that
ḫaḫḫima- in CTH 323 symbolizes evil and darkness as well?
When searching for attestations of ḫaḫḫima-, one finds that the word ap-
pears only in the context of CTH 323 and in a passage from another mugawar
(CTH 325). As previously mentioned, it has been considered, based on CTH 323,
that ḫaḫḫima- was the personification of a negative force of nature, caused by
winter cold, whereas its etymology would point to summer heat and drought.5
Clearly, these are two types of phenomena that, due to their opposition, imply
a wide spectrum of consequences to the landscape. Favouring one over the
other would significantly change the overall meaning of the narrative.
If we ponder what the most apparent consequence of the disappearance of
the Sun-god in CTH 323 could be, we would probably feel inclined to assume
that the world would indeed become dark (as in CTH 322) and cold. As a matter
of fact, the idea of a world with no light is in itself a powerful image, which
seems to have carried a strong symbolic meaning within Hittite imagery, where
darkness was directly associated with death (as in many other cultures).6 We
find hints of this imagery in CTH 323 as well, when we read that the Storm-god
says to ḫaḫḫima- that if it seizes his feet and hands it will not seize his eyes.
4 The translation follows Rieken et al. (2012a), hethiter.net/: CTH 322.1; CHD L–N: 394.
5 J. Tischler identifies ḫaḫḫima- with a “Dämon der sommerlichen? Erstarrung (?)” (HEG 1984:
123); J. Puhvel identifies ḫaḫḫima- with the “personification of the withering of vegetation
caused by summer drought” (HED H: 1991: 8–9); A. Kloekhorst identifies ḫaḫḫima- tentatively
with “drought” (2008: 693).
6 This is clear, for instance, in the way the Hittites referred to the underworld as the Dark Earth.
In this vein, the sight and the eyes share a meaningful presence within Hittite-Anatolian reli-
gious texts and are closely interrelated. For instance, in Telipinu’s mugawar (CTH 324), the
goddess Ḫannaḫanna instructs the bee to clean the eyes of the god before he returns, which
constitutes a meaningful procedure if we consider that after his departure the god is found to
be asleep, in a state closely associated with the symbolism of death (Eliade 1965: xiv; Eliade
1992: 136–137).

From this perspective, this would be the god’s way of expressing that ḫaḫḫima-
will not exterminate him.7
Even though the disappearance of the Sun-god’s direct association with
darkness and death constitutes a broad concept, it is still interesting to observe
that death in this text is also stressed by different inquiries made by the gods.
For instance, in the Sun-god’s mugawar (CTH 323) paragraph 4’, the absence of
the Sun-god raises questions about whether the gods are able to do something
extraordinary in order to overcome death.8 In contrast, in Telipinu’s mugawar
(CTH 324), because death is the consequence of hunger, the inquiries revolve
around what the gods should do (e.g., CTH 324.1 §8’ 62 māḫḫan iyaweni “How
shall we proceed?”).9
When approaching other aspects of paragraph 4’ (CTH 323.1), we read in
some translations (e.g., Hoffner 1998: 27) that in an attempt to save the land
from the effects of ḫaḫḫima- (translated as frost), the Storm-god asks his broth-
er, the Wind, to continue to let his “refreshing” go to the water of the moun-
tains, gardens, and the meadows. If this translation is correct, then the plot of
CTH 323 becomes difficult to interpret, since one could reasonably wonder:
why would the Storm-god need to refresh the waters if they are expected to
become affected by ḫaḫḫima-, conceived as of wintry nature?
When considering this section more deeply, it is clear that these lines be-
come problematic when translating the term waršula- and the last verb
tin(n)u- ‘paralyse?’:
CTH 323.110
§ 4’
43 ḫuwanti ana ŠEŠ-ŠU tar(a)škezzi
7 Similarly, in the Myth of Illuyanka (CTH 321) the heart and the eyes of the Storm-god were
taken by the creature, without which the Storm-god was not able to fight back against
Illuyanka.
8 As we read in CTH 323.1:
§ 4’
33 “Tell me…
34 [… my so]ns.
35 If a man is killed,
36 [can they give him life ag]ain?
37 [If an o]x (or) a sheep has been killed,
38 can [they rev]ive it?
39 What miracle will yo[ur] sons do?”
Cf. the transliteration in Rieken et al. (2009a), hethiter.net/: CTH 323.1.
9 Cf. Rieken et al. (2012b), hethiter.net/: CTH 324.1.
10 The transliteration follows Rieken et al. (2009a), hethiter.net/: CTH 323.1.

488 Della Casa
44 ḪUR.SAG MEŠ-aš widār GIŠKIRI 6ḪI.A wēl[l]u

45 nu twel [w]aršulaš=teš? paišgataru
46 n=uš lē tinnuzi
§ 4’
43 He (the Storm-god) says to his brother, the Wind,
44 “The waters of the mountains, the gardens, the mea[d]ow(s),
45 let your [w]aršula- keep going
46 and let it (ḫaḫḫima-) not paralyse? them.”
As observed by A. Kloekhorst, the existence of examples where waršula- is a

substance that can be both tasted and seen probably denotes “the immaterial
appearance of a certain object in the form of smell, taste or some kind of ‘ma-
terialization,’” and hence relates to the meaning “fume, haze or vapour” (2008:
978). Taking the above into account, in paragraph 4’ of CTH 323.1, where the
Storm-god asks the Wind to allow his waršula- to continue to go to the waters
of different places, waršula- seems to have a stronger link to the need for keep-
ing these areas alive as well as humid. In accordance, within this specific con-
text, Kloekhorst’s analysis of the term makes it suitable to translate waršula- as
“haze” or “vapor” instead of some kind of cool air.
Even though the Wind’s benefits could have alleviated the situation of the
waters that moisten the mountains, gardens and meadows, we find out that
ḫaḫḫima- was still able to dry them up. In this vein, we read in paragraph 4’ that
ḫaḫḫima- did not only “tinnut the whole land” but also “dried up the waters,”11
allowing us to infer that the Wind was in charge of keeping the gardens,
meadows and mountains humid. How did ḫaḫḫima- dry the waters? Did it
manage to evaporate them or make them unavailable by freezing them?
When examining the verb tin(n)u-, which is found repeatedly as the action
through which ḫaḫḫima- affects the entire land (but also specifically plants,
sheep, cattle, dogs and pigs), it is worth noting that this verb appears only with-
in this text alone. In accordance, it has been translated as:
– “zum Stillstand bringen(?), lähmen(?)” (HW: 224);
– “make wither” (HED H: 3: 8);
– “lähmen (Vegetation, Vieh, Länder)” (HEG: 374);
– “zum Stillstand bringen, lähmen (Vegetation, Vieh, Länder)” (HHw: 178).
11 CTH 323.1
§4’
40 ḫa[ḫḫima-] has paralysed? the entire land,
41 it dried up the waters.
42 ḫaḫḫima- (is) great.

If we accept these general translations of tin(n)u-, then we should ask: in which

way did ḫaḫḫima- “paralyse” fields, plants, animals, and the land as a whole?
Even though little can be said on the basis of the limited information provided
by CTH 323, we may still safely presume that the critical situation suffered by
the whole land, expressed by the verb tin(n)u-, is associated with the drying up
of the waters. As a result, apart from discussing the possible wintry or sum-
mery nature of ḫaḫḫima-, it seems appropriate to focus on the harm it pro-
duces by drying up water resources.
When combing other evocation rituals in search for the elements that, like
ḫaḫḫima-, transformed a given landscape, one observes that, after the gods
reside in “other mediums,” agents emerge with the capacity to make indoor
areas collapse. In Telipinu’s mugawar (CTH 324), for instance, as in many
other evocation rituals, one reads that the god left his house (i.e., the temple),
that “mist” (kammara-) seized (IṢBAT) the window and “smoke” (tuḫḫui- /
tuḫḫuwai-) suffocated12 (wišuriya-) the house, causing the logs, the gods, sheep
and cattle to become oppressed inside different constructions, and thus affect-
ing fundamental areas of the cities. Even if this situation is expressed succinct-
ly, its symbolism regarding the argument of the text as a whole is strong (Della
Casa 2018: 257–258). In part, this is due to the key role played by windows
within Hittite religion, for they expressed a link between the inside and out-
side world as well as the relationship between the human and the divine
worlds.13
In accordance, the act of mist seizing the window after a god or goddess
leaves enraged not only expresses the impossibility of seeing,14 but also the
obstruction of communication between the world of the gods and that of hu-
mans. Moreover, in Telipinu’s mugawar (CTH 324), as in other texts belonging
12 For another interpretation of wišuriya-, cf. Melchert 2016.

13 As synthesized by Hoffner, within the context of Hittite religion windows seem to “mark
the boundary between sacred and profane”, which would explain why offerings made to
sacred places in the temple always include windows (Hoffner 2007: 135). In his study of
Hittite myths, Hoffner suggested that the window mentioned in the Myth of Illuyanka
(through which Ḫupašiya was warned not to look, or he would see his wife and children)
expresses the vicinity of the house on the rock where the window is placed and Ḫupašiya’s
family (2007). I would suggest, however, that the indications of the goddess Inara reveal
that, for Ḫupašiya, looking out the window would mean looking back on the human
world which he had left, and thus being tempted to abandon the divine plane and return
to his family. In the same vein, within Hittite rituals the practices developed on the 13th
day of the Royal Funerary Ritual (CTH 450) consisted (in part) of taking the laḫanza-
ducks through the window three times: a practice developed at a crucial point, when the
soul finally leaves the deceased, and thus the human world (Archi 2008: 174).
14 This is stressed by the fact that the word kammara- when used with IGIḪI.A “eyes” ex-
presses a sickness of the eyes or “cloudiness” (see Groddek 1999: 37, 39).

490 Della Casa
to the genre, the symbolism of mist seizing the window—i.e., as obstructing

communication between the human and divine worlds—becomes self-
evident in the fact that the god is angry, leaves the inhabited world, and hides
in a distant space.15
Following this train of thought, it is worth noting that kammara- is regis-
tered in the list of polluted elements of the mugawar of the Storm-god in
Liḫzina (CTH 331.1), while ḫaḫḫima- is also found in the mugawar of the
Storm-god (CTH 325) among other evils such as rage, anger, sullenness as well
as summer burden and spring burden. In the list of polluted elements, nine are
mentioned:16
1 karpi(n) = anger
2 [kartimmiyatt]an = [wra]th
3 wašdul = sin
4 šāuwar = sullenness
5 idalun EME-an = evil tongue
6 idālun patalḫan = bad behaviour
7 ….ḫaḫḫiman = …?
8 ḫamešḫandaš aimpan = spring burden
9 BURU 14-antaš [aimpa]n = summer [burde]n
Of the nine evils with which ḫaḫḫima- is somehow associated, four of them are
previously mentioned together in the same mugawar (CTH 325), in the
corresponding section on analogical magic.17 After these, which seem to be
different ways of defining the god’s enraged state, two other generic ways of
addressing said state and the god’s actions are mentioned: idalun EME-an ‘evil
speech’ and idālun patalhan ‘bad behaviour’ (cf. CHD P: 239a). Afterwards,
however, three other types of evils are listed (7, 8, 9), which seem to be linked
to each other by a climatological element: ḫaḫḫima-, spring burden and sum-
mer burden.
15 This is also true because when order is restored, mist and smoke leave the window and
the house, this deity takes care of the land, the Queen and the King, reestablishing the
relationships between the worlds.
16 The transliteration follows Rieken et al. (2012c), hethiter.net/: CTH 325.
17 “§19 … Just as they burn] these [pieces of kindling wood], may the Storm God’s anger and
wrath, [sin and sullenness] burn up in the same way. The Storm God’s wrath, his soul
and body, are a blazing fire. And just as this fire [is extinguished, so may] his anger, wrath,
and sullenness [be extinguished in the same way]” (Hoffner 1998: 22, emphasis added; cf.
§23, Rieken et al. (2012c), hethiter.net/: CTH 325).

Why are these three polluted elements mentioned in the Storm-god’s

mugawar (CTH 325)? It could be expected, if the three belong to a climatologi-
cal phenomenon, that the Storm-god’s rage manifests itself with undesirable
consequences (here intended to be ritually destroyed). Thus, even if one can-
not determine what phenomenon ḫaḫḫima- is linked to, its attestation within
CTH 325 seems to confirm the idea that it is related to weather conditions.
Even if we could expect that ḫaḫḫima- refers to a wintry phenomenon within
CTH 325’s list, its direct relationship with spring and summer leaves open the
possibility that ḫaḫḫima- could be more intimately connected to these two
seasons and, therefore, closer to the meaning of “drought” and its association
with hot weather. If this is the case, we would need to think of the verb tin(n)u-
‘paralyse’ in terms of “making something inert.”
As expressed earlier, in the Sun-god’s mugawar (CTH 323) the actions of
ḫaḫḫima- produce a crisis in open areas only—in contrast to mist and smoke,
which were able to provoke distress in enclosed spaces—affecting animals
(cattle, sheep, dogs, pigs), but also directly altering lands, plants and water re-
sources (see §5’). Along this line of thought, we read, after ḫaḫḫima- seized the
War-god, that it also manages to seize dLamma, the “son of the steppe,” and
Telipinu, the one who “…breaks up the sod, plows it, diverts water (to irrigate
it) and pirulawas grain…” (after CHD L–N: 366b), in other words, the gods con-
nected to the flora and fauna of the countryside and to the agricultural fields
respectively. As such, they were probably acknowledged as deities qualified to
confront the actions of ḫaḫḫima- in the open air (the very reason why they
were called by the Storm-god). However, the fact that these deities are being
seized points to the idea that such areas were under the influence of ḫaḫḫima-
as well.18
Interestingly, the Sun-god’s mugawar (CTH 323), after ḫaḫḫima- seized
dLamma and Telipinu, narrates that the god who was not seized was Ḫašamili,
because his brothers were the brothers of ḫaḫḫima-. As a result of this state-
ment, Ḫašamili becomes a key character in our effort to better understand the
role of ḫaḫḫima-, since the emphasis put on their relationship seems to point
18 Pecchioli Daddi and Polvani have indicated that the contrast between the world of nature
mentioned in CTH 323 and other evocation rituals is due to the fact that the Sun-god’s
expresses characteristics of agro-pastoral societies, where nature is mainly related to the
countryside, while other evocation rituals (such as Telipinu’s) express a more complex
socioeconomic environment inserted into a highly organized society (Pecchioli Daddi
and Polvani 1990: 62). In this regard, I would rather point out that the varied environ-
ments mentioned in the evocation rituals are the result of the differences between the
way chaos manifests itself on each separate occasion, how it affects the world, and which
areas of it end up being affected.

492 Della Casa
to inner aspects they have in common. Unfortunately, Ḫašamili does not seem
to be an easy character to unravel (see Otten 1972–1977: 127; Archi 1966: 89,
96–100; Archi 1975; Popko 1978: 22–23, 130–131).
For example, in a “Ritual for the Construction of a Temple” (CTH 726.1), we
read that Ḫašamili is referred to as a “strong smith” (LÚSIMUG innarawandan)
who opens the earth to bury the gods’ hearts in what seems to be a mythologi-
cal passage about the creation of human beings (Klinger 1996: 696).19 By open-
ing the earth, we can expect Ḫašamili to be related to the Dark Earth and its
attributes; an intimation of this can be found in his presence within Lelwani’s
circle of deities and the chthonic world. As a smith, one may link this god to
certain types of tools and metals—such as those included in CTH 726.1, i.e.
nails, iron and certain types of bronze hammers—as well as to working with
fire, next to a hearth and surrounded by logs, coal, and ashes. Because of his
work at the forge, we can also expect him to be somehow related to war, as at-
tested in Muršili’s Annals (CTH 62, Year 9), where Ḫašamili is able to hide the
Hittite army so that the enemies could not see them. Unfortunately, it is not
explicitly indicated by which means Ḫašamili managed to hide (munnanda)
the troops. To be precise, the text reads: “I, the great king, together with my
troops and chariotry proceeded concealed. The mighty Storm-god, my lord,
had summoned Ḫašamili, my lord, for me and he kept me hidden, (so that) no
one saw me” (CHD L–N: 332b).
Ḫašamili has also been identified with cult objects that shared a special re-
ligious meaning within a house or a temple (Popko 178: 22, 130). In accordance,
A. Archi associated Ḫašamili (who might also be written as dḪaša(m)iliyaš GIŠ
‘wood of the god Ḫašamili’)20 with the “genii of the hearth”, since he appears
together with grain (dḪalki-) in the Feast of Šarišša (CTH 363.2; Archi 1975: 78).
Thus, putting together the scattered information about the god, Archi conclud-
ed that “il dio Ḫašamili, che ha la funzione di celare al nemico i movimenti
dell’esercito ittita, sembra essere materializzato in un qualche oggetto atto a
schermare la luce all’interno di un ambiente” (Archi 1975: 79, emphasis added).
If Archi is correct, one may wonder, given Ḫašamili’s relationship with dark-
ness, if the obscurity that comes after the Sun-god’s absence in CTH 322 is
somehow represented in CTH 323 by ḫaḫḫima-. If so, darkness would be an
aspect of Ḫašamili’s and ḫaḫḫima-’s familial ties. One would expect, then, that
darkness, with its association to death, becomes predominant in this narrative,
in opposition to some of the Sun-god’s qualities, namely light and life. It seems,
19 Cf. Torri (2012), hethiter.net/: CTH 726.1.

20 CTH 618.1; cf. Popko 1978: 22.

however, that a deeper analysis of Ḫašamili still needs to be carried out to ac-
cess the god’s nature and help elucidate ḫaḫḫima-’s.
From the difficulties in narrowing down the characteristics of ḫaḫḫima-,
one may reasonably call into question the possibility that the Sun’s absence
would generate even warmer weather. However, it is also true that mythologi-
cal narratives can unfold in unpredictable ways. Therefore, the Sun-god being
no longer in his distant place in the sky but in the Sea could also result in an
increase of temperatures on the earth, drying up the waters—especially if we
consider that in Hittite imagery the waters are viewed as interrelated with the
Dark Earth (Della Casa 2018: 150–182; Della Casa, in press).
Thus, in order to properly approach the phenomenon generated by the
Sun-god’s relocation, one observes, for instance, that in the mugawar of the
Storm-god in Liḫzina (CTH 331) a variety of evils are brought to the Sea,
where cauldrons of copper lie in a very similar way to how Telipinu’s and
Ḫannaḫanna’s anger were put in cauldrons in the Dark Earth in their evocation
rituals (Collins 1997: 172; Rieken et al. (2009b), hethiter.net/: CTH 331). Within
Hittite imagery, there is no clue as to the Sea’s positioning in relation to the
Dark Earth (under it, above it, interconnected). But we may argue that it would
generally constitute a more distant area, since the Dark Earth may be easily
reached by pits. A hint of the relationship between the underworld and the Sea
can be observed in the mugawar and prayer of the Storm-god of Nerik (CTH
671). In it, we read that the god became angry and went down into a pit. As can
be expected, after the descent, the text mentions the Dark Earth repeatedly.
More curiously, though, the Dark Earth appears as a space intimately associ-
ated with a varied aquatic medium composed of the shores of the nine seas,
the shores of the river, and the sea.21 In this regard, it is interesting to observe
the presence of the adverbs arḫa ‘away from’ as well as the Sumerian ugu /
‘up(wards)’ (Hitt. šer or šarā ‘up’) and gam ‘down’ (in Hitt. katta) within the
context of CTH 671. Their presence gives the impression that the aquatic di-
mension depicted in this mugawar lies beneath the earthly surface, even
though it could also be intertwined with it. Accordingly, it can be said that in
their evocation rituals both the Storm-god of Nerik (CTH 671) and the Sun-god
(CTH 323) are hidden in an interrelated realm: that of an aquatic landscape.
When searching for key characteristics of the Hittite Sea and for other plac-
es where the gods tend to hide in the evocation rituals, one reads in Telipinu’s
mugawar (CTH 324) that the deity hides in the moors (as well as the Storm-god
in CTH 325) and then proceeds to unite himself with the moor, in a similar way
that Fire, when enraged, “blended with the night” (Melchert 2003: 284). The
21 See: Haas 1970: 146, 150; Deighton 1982: 74–81; Hoffner 1998: 23–24.

494 Della Casa
text goes on to say that above Telipinu the ḫalenzu-plant grew (lit. ran). Even
though, on the surface, CTH 324 lays out a different type of landscape, a moor is
still an aquatic or semi-aquatic environment, and the ḫalenzu-plant spreading
over Telipinu provides the final imagery of such a space.
We do not have many references to this plant in other texts, but we do find
it attested in the “Instructions of Arnuwanda I for the Mayor (of Ḫattuša)”, CTH
257, where it is indicated that the herald shall regularly take the ḫalenzu-plant
up off of whatever kungali-pool is there for the deity (Miller 2013: 187). This
leads us to propose that Telipinu, the Sun-god and the Storm-god of Nerik all
went to distant areas which appear suitable for a god to hide in, and which
were, in one way or another, related to a watery landscape, namely a type of
place the Hittites associated with the symbolism of the Dark Earth and its pol-
luted elements, as well as with the gods’ location when major crises occurred.
In this regard, the Sea of CTH 323 does not present itself as a place that would
highly contrast with other sites chosen by the gods to hide. Therefore, it does
not give us a precise indication of the location’s association with the general-
ized crisis or of how this association functions.
All in all, when revisiting key aspects of this mugawar such as that of the Sea
just mentioned, it becomes clear that there are still significant ambiguities
with respect to its general plot, and that its meaning should not unequivocally
be understood in the sense of the advance of a wintry force. Therefore, with
the goal of outlining the ambiguity of the narrative’s general meaning to the
present reader, and of finding out whether its current interpretations find tex-
tual support, we have first revisited the translations of certain keywords (i.e.,
ḫaḫḫima-, waršula- and tin(n)u-). Starting from the last of these, we can say
that even if its translation as ‘paralyse’ could be correct—probably derived
from tiya- ‘to stay, (take a) stand’—we can still wonder whether the “paralysis”
is necessarily associated with a frozen state. Another possibility would link
tin(n)u- to the effects of drought, which could also be interpreted as paralysing,
making the land and its animals inert, without life, immobile, motionless, and
therefore still. As a result, the word tin(n)u- by itself does not allow for a com-
prehensive interpretation of the actions of ḫaḫḫima-.
We do know, however, that the general situation affecting the Hittite world
and driving it to death through ḫaḫḫima- is also linked to the need for water
(water which had been dried up, expressed by the verb ḫat-). Along this line of
thought, it seems appropriate, despite difficulties in defining the crisis, to
translate waršula- as “haze” or “vapor” because of the need for humidity in the
mountains, the meadows, and the gardens—sites that ḫaḫḫima- would later
make dry.

In our analysis of CTH 323, we have also highlighted Ḫašamili’s special rela-
tionship with ḫaḫḫima- (owing to their familial ties) and therefore proposed
that because of their interconnection, Ḫašamili’s nature could shed some light
on that of ḫaḫḫima-. Even if Ḫašamili is a difficult god to define, the scattered
information about him allows us to suppose that on some level he was related
to darkness, with which he was probably able to hide an entire army. As a con-
sequence, one may wonder if obscurity is an element that links Ḫašamili and
ḫaḫḫima- together. If so, the darkness that comes after the Sun-god’s absence
in CTH 322 would in some way be represented by ḫaḫḫima- in CTH 323. Follow-
ing this train of thought, Haas’ observation about Ḫašamili’s connection with
the Moon, the Star, and the Night may provide more hints about the god’s
nature.22
Furthermore, by comparing the evocation rituals which preserve the sec-
tion where the gods hide or are hidden,23 we have been able to unveil a ten-
dency to place the said deities in an interrelated watery ecosystem, making
the Sea of this mugawar (CTH 323) somewhat less of a singularity. That is to
say that within Hittite imagery, a watery landscape is a type of place associat-
ed with a god’s or goddess’ disappearance and with a general crisis in nature.
Finally, as a result of this analysis we believe one should be cautious when
translating ḫaḫḫima- as some kind of wintry phenomenon, because doing so
tilts the balance of the general plot and because the textual evidence is still
ambiguous.
Acknowledgments
I am especially grateful to S. de Martino for reading previous versions of this

article and providing me with valuable advice, and to J.L. Miller for guiding me
during the elaboration of the conference paper. I am also thankful to C. Steitler
for his feedback on the deity Ḫašamili and to the blind peer-reviewers, whose
suggestions were very valuable. Finally, I would like to thank R.I. Kim for his
work editing this article, and the National Scientific and Technical Research
22 In Haas’ words: “Hasammeli, der in Opferlisten zuweilen eine Gruppe mit Mond, Stern
und Nacht bildet, ist ein apotropäischer, auch die Kinder beschützender Gott. Die Brüder
des Hasammeli sind jedoch nur an dieser Stelle genannt; daß Mond, Stern und Nacht
seine Brüder sind, kann allenfalls vermutet werden” (2006: 119).
23 To which should be added the analysis of gods being found in the city of Liḫzina, in its
woods and meadows (Della Casa 2018: 273).

496 Della Casa
Council (CONICET, Argentina), the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst

(DAAD), and the Scientific and Technological Research Council of Turkey
(TÜBITAK) for having supported this research. Needless to say, I bear all re-
sponsibility for the errors that might appear in the article.
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Chapter 26
„Fehler“ und Fehlschreibungen in hethitischen

Texten
Susanne Görke
Abstract
This paper deals with the question of how to interpret scribal errors. The first part tries
to find explanations for inconsistencies in the determination of personal names focus-
ing on the text genre and taking into account the study of the whole tablet. The second
part analyzes the Gerichtsprotokoll KUB 13.35+, also taking into account the format and
layout of the tablet.
Keywords
Hethitische Ritualtexte – Etiketten – Gerichtsprotokolle
Im Rahmen des deutsch-italienischen Vigoni-Projekts wurde in den Jahren

2010 und 2011 eine Mainzer-Florentiner Kooperation von DAAD und MUIR ge-
fördert, in der die hethitischen Baurituale CTH 413–415, CTH 725 und 726 einer
eingehenden Untersuchung unterzogen wurden. Diese führte nicht nur zu
neuen Ergebnissen in Bezug auf den Inhalt und die Bedeutung der Texte,1 son-
dern brachte auch Tafelaussehen und Schreibungen in die Auswertung ein.
Exemplarisch sei an dieser Stelle darauf hingewiesen, dass bei einem Vergleich
der beiden relativ vollständig erhaltenen Tafeln KUB 29.1 (CTH 414) und KUB
2.2+ (eine Sammeltafel, auf der CTH 413 und 725 niedergeschrieben sind) Fol-
gendes festgestellt werden konnte: Bei einer Betrachtung der Anlage und des
Aussehens der zweikolumnigen Tafel KUB 29.1 sind gerade Paragraphenstri-
che, gerade verlaufende Zeilen sowie ein zumeist unbeschriebenes Interko-
lumnium zu konstatieren. Bei der ebenfalls zweikolumnigen Sammeltafel KUB
2.2+ verlaufen Paragraphenstriche nur im oberen Bereich orthogonal zum Ta-
felrand; darunter lässt sich eine deutliche Tendenz nach rechts oben erkennen.
1 Siehe Torri – Görke 2013; Görke – Torri 2014.

500 Görke
Das führt dazu, dass im unteren Bereich die Zeilen erst in der Kolumnenmitte
beginnen können. Bei einem detaillierteren Blick jedoch weist KUB 29.1 zahl-
reiche Rasuren, überschriebene, ausgelassene oder zu viel geschriebene Zei-
chen, Wiederholungen und Zeichenverwechslungen auf, während KUB 2.2+
wesentlich weniger Verschreibungen u.ä. zeigt. Das führte zu der Annahme,
dass trotz sorgfältigerer Anlage KUB 29.1 vielleicht eher eine vorläufige Fassung
darzustellen scheint, während KUB 2.2+ evtl. als Archivkopie gedient haben
könnte.2
Überlegungen zu Aussagen über Fehler oder Fehlschreibungen in hethiti-
schen Texten wurden in der Hethitologie bislang eher am Rande behandelt. So
konnte Houwink ten Cate zeigen, dass von den zwei Hauptvertretern des Ge-
betes Muwatallis an den Wettergott CTH 381 der eine, wie zahlreiche Fehl-
schreibungen zeigen, unter Diktat entstand, dessen Tempo der Schreiber
offensichtlich nicht folgen konnte (Houwink ten Cate 1968: 205–206). Der an-
dere könnte als revidierte Version versucht haben, die Fehler zu korrigieren.
Diese Ergebnisse wurden in der ausführlichen Studie von Singer im Wesentli-
chen bestätigt (Singer 1996). 1988 legte Rüster in einem Aufsatz eine vorläufige
Dokumentation mit Beispielen für Zeichenauslassungen, Zeichenvertau-
schung, Zeichenumstellung, Doppelsetzung von Zeichen sowie fehlerhafte
Zeichenformen vor (Rüster 1988). 2007 versuchte Cotticelli-Kurras auf Basis
kognitiver Kenntnisse aus dem Bereich der Neurolinguistik einige Fehlertypen
in der hethitischen Keilschrift zu interpretieren. Dabei unterschied sie u.a.
auch eine graphische von einer phonetischen Ebene und konnte eine erste
Auflistung der Häufigkeit von Fehlern geben (siehe dazu im Detail Cotticelli-
Kurras 2007).
Beobachtungen zu Fehlern und Abweichungen der Textvertreter eines En-
sembles werden in manchen Einzelstudien hethitischer Texte unternommen.
So analysierte z.B. Miller in seiner Studie zu den Kizzuwatna-Ritualen
besonders ausgelassene Wörter und Sätze der verschiedenen Textvertreter

untereinander, um die unterschiedlichen Stadien der Entstehungsgeschichte

herauszufiltern (Miller 2004: bes. 230–232).
In meiner geplanten Studie möchte ich eine textimmanente Untersuchung
anstellen, d.h. der Fokus soll weniger auf Unterschieden einzelner Exemplare
eines Textes liegen und damit auf die Entstehungsgeschichte desselben abzie-
len, sondern ein Text an sich soll zunächst in den Mittelpunkt gestellt werden.
Daher spielt bei der Textauswahl der Erhaltungszustand eine große Rolle, da
nur eine Untersuchung (fast) vollständig erhaltener Tafeln angestrebt ist.
2 Siehe detailliert Görke – Torri 2014.

„fehler“ Und Fehlschreibungen In Hethitischen Texten 501
Im Folgenden sollen zwei Beispiele vorgestellt werden, um in einer zusam-

menfassenden Aussage zu möglichen Interpretationen eines Zusammenhangs
zwischen Tafelanlage, Aussehen und vermeintlichen Fehlschreibungen zu
gelangen.
Das erste hier anzuführende Beispiel betrifft Ungereimtheiten in der Deter-
mination von Personennamen, dass also z.B. Frauen mit Determinativ für
Männer oder vice versa geschrieben werden. Dazu schreibt Miller (2004: 478):
That the Anatolian ritualists to whom the compositions were ascribed

may also have been, at least at some stage of the evolution of the textual
material, legendary figures, might find support in the fact that the gender
of no fewer than six named ritualists appears to have been unclear to the
scribes dealing with their compositions, if errors in the determinatives
attached to their names are any indicator. This is the case with Ḫantitassu,
Wattiti, Kuwatalla, Kuwanni, Ammiḫatna and Puriyanni ( … ). While
some of these cases may be seen, as they usually are, as simple scribal
errors, it seems that the incidence is simply too high for such an
explanation.
An dieser Stelle kann nicht auf alle Beispiele in extenso eingegangen werden.
Anzumerken bleibt, dass im Fall von Puriyanni3 und Kuwatalla4 das (vermeint-
lich) inkorrekte Determinativ nur in Katalogeinträgen verwendet wird. Dabei
kann von einer zeitlichen und örtlichen Distanz der Niederschrift der unter-
schiedlichen Textgruppen ausgegangen werden. In Bezug auf Ammiḫatna
wurden zwei Personen unterschiedlichen Geschlechts erwogen,5 wobei auch
hier das „falsche“ Determinativ in Katalogeinträgen vorliegt.
Bei Ḫantitaššu lautet der Kolophon des Ritualtexts KBo 11.14 (CTH 395) iv
24f. fḫa-an-ti-ta-aš-šu LÚ uruḫu-ur-ma „Ḫantitaššu, Mann aus Ḫurma“, während
der Paralleltext KUB 43.57+ iv 23’ fḫa-an-ti-ta-aš-šu MUNUS uruḫu-ur-ma
„Ḫantitaššu, Frau aus Ḫurma“ (cf. CTH 395.1 §24““) aufweist. Die wohl etwa zur
Hälfte erhaltene Tafel KBo 11.14 ist zweikolumnig, die Paragraphenstriche so-
wie der Zeilenverlauf relativ gerade und das Interkolumnium wenig beschrie-
ben. Die unterschiedliche Kolumnenbreite vermittelt dabei den Eindruck,
3 Mit Determinativ eines Mannes in den Ritualtexten KUB 7.14 i 1 (über Rasur; cf. auch Miller
2004: 492 Anm. 879), KBo 29.1 iv 3’ und KUB 35.57 i 1, aber im Katalog KBo 31.6 iii 17’ mit dem
einer Frau (cf. Dardano 2006: 182, 186).
4 In den Ritualtexten mit Determinativ einer Frau (KUB 35.18, KUB 35.24+, KUB 32.9+), im Ta-
felkatalog KUB 30.55 rev.? 8: mku-wa-tal-la.
5 Güterbock 1954: 389. Mit Determinativ eines Mannes in allen Texten außer in den Tafelkata-
logen KBo 7.74+ ii 5 und KBo 31.25 i 8’ (determiniert mit MUNUS).

502 Görke
dass die rechten Kolumnen gedrängter geschrieben sind als die linken. Ver-
schreibungen und Rasuren halten sich im Rahmen, wobei die Oberfläche der
Rs. iii derart abgerieben ist, dass z.B. Rasuren kaum mehr erkennbar sind.6
Ohne an dieser Stelle auf die etwas komplexere Redaktionsgeschichte des Tex-
tes eingehen zu können, sei angemerkt, dass das Ritual im Kolophon, also der
Tafelunterschrift, wie erwähnt der Ḫantitaššu, Frau/Mann aus Ḫurma, zuge-
schrieben wird; der Ritualausführende ist aber ein uddanaš EN-aš/išḫas ‚Herr
der Worte’. Vielleicht ist daraus zu schließen, dass die Bezeichnung LÚ „Mann“,
soweit sie nicht als „Person“ zu verstehen ist, wofür meinem Wissen nach aber
die Beleglage keine Anhaltspunkte liefert, Ausdruck davon ist, dass der Schrei-
ber über die „unklare“ Verbindung von Ḫantitaššu zu dem ausführenden
„Herrn der Worte“ sinnierte und sich dies in der fälschlichen Schreibung LÚ
„Mann“ niederschlug.
Auf einen anderen Grund könnte die Schreibung mwa-at-ti-ti MUNUS URUku-
na-aš-šar-wa in dem Etikettstext KUB 30.48 zurückzuführen sein. Bei dem
Text handelt es sich um ein Etikett, das den gleichen Text wie der Kolophon
KUB 7.1+ und der Katalogeintrag KBo 31.4+ aufweist, also die Namen und Ri-
tualgründe dreier Rituale.7 Die verkürzten Schreibungen von GIŠ für DUB
(Vs. 1) oder ma-an-kán für zu erwartendes ma-a-an-kán (Rs. 9, 12), ku-e-da-ni-ki
für ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki (Rs. 13) und ši-pa-taḫ-ḫi (Vs. 6) für ši-pa-an-taḫ-ḫi (Rs. 17)
vermitteln den Eindruck einer zügigen, zeitsparenden Niederschrift, so dass
der Grund für die fehlerhafte Personendetermination Flüchtigkeit gewesen
sein könnte.
Eine überzeugende Erklärung für das widersprüchliche incipit des Rituals
von Kuwanni KUB 32.129+, des letzten von Miller zitierten Beispiels, steht noch
aus: „Folgendermaßen Mann Kuwanni, Tempelfrau der Ḫebat von Kumman-
ni“ ([UMM]A mku-wa-an-ni MUNUS É.DINGIR-LIM ŠA Dḫé-pát URUkum
[-ma-an-]ni).
6 Unklare Konstruktionen in KBo 11.14 Vs. i 4 und 19; Zeichenverschreibungen in Vs. ii 2 und 6;
Rasur am Ende der Zeile Vs. ii 32 sowie in der Mitte von Vs. ii 34.
7 KUB 30.48 Vs. (1) DUB! 1.KAM A-WA-AT MUNUSa-ia-tar-ša (2) GÉME MUNUSna-a-ú-i-la ma-a-an (3)
DUMU-aš a-al-pa-a-an-za na-aš-ma-aš-˹ši˺-kán (4) ka-ra-a-te-eš * * a-ta-an-te-eš (5) nu-uš-ši
i-na-na-aš DUTU-un (6) ki-iš-ša-an ši-pa-taḫ-ḫi (§-Strich) Rd. (7) A-WA-AT mwa-at-ti-ti (8)
MUNUS URUku-na-aš-šar-wa Rs. (9) ma-an-kán an-tu-uḫ-ši ka-ra-a-te-eš (10) a-ta-an-te-eš nu
ki-iš-ša-an (11) ut-tar-še-et (§-Strich) (12) A-WA-AT ma-an-kán EMEḪI.A (13) ku-e-da-ni-ki ú-wa-
an-te-eš (14) ŠI-PÁT ḫa-me-en-ku-wa-aš (15) A-WA-AT MUNUSšu-šu-ma-an-ni-ga MUNUSŠU.GI (16)
ma-a-an DUMU-li Dḫa-ša-me-li u.Rd. (17) ITU-aš ši-pa-an-taḫ-ḫi. Siehe Dardano 2006: 113 mit
Transliteration und Übersetzung der beiden weiteren Texte KUB 7.1+ und KBo 31.4+ auf S. 102
und 112–113.

Das zweite hier anzuführende Beispiel betrifft ein so genanntes Gerichts-

protokoll KUB 13.35+. Der Text beginnt mit der Feststellung des Tatbestands:
ein gewisser GAL-DU hat es unterlassen, Belege bei der Weitergabe von Gerät-
schaften, die ihm zur Verwaltung vom Palast überlassen waren, einzufordern.
Es folgen Aussagen von Beteiligten, die sie unter Eid machten (vgl. Werner
1967: 1, 74–76). Von dem Ausgang des Prozesses oder von einer Entscheidung
einer richterlichen Instanz erfahren wir nichts. Werner nahm in der editio prin-
ceps an, dass der hier vorgestellte Text „sicherlich erst nachträglich in der
Kanzlei (auf Grund von Notizen?) ausgefertigt“ wurde (Werner 1967: 1). Im
Gegensatz dazu könnte KUB 28.88 ein Beispiel eines Gerichtsprotokolls sein,
das „während des Prozeßverfahrens geschrieben“ worden sei, da es wesentlich
flüchtiger geschrieben erscheint.8
Charakteristisch für Gerichtsprotokolle, wie auch Orakelprotokolle, sind die
Abstände, die einzelne Paragraphen zum nächsten Strich aufweisen. Viele der
Paragraphen sind demnach nicht bis zum Paragraphenstrich beschrieben.9
Darüber hinaus wirkt die Tafel sorgfältig angelegt, mit geraden Paragraphen-
strichen; besonders auf der Rückseite lässt sich das Bemühen erkennen, Zeilen
zur Gänze auszufüllen, in dem das letzte Zeichen des letzten Wortes eines
Paragraphen etwas ausgerückt wurde (z.B. KUB 13.35+ Rs. iv 27, 34). Nichtsdes-
toweniger weist der Text zahlreiche Rasuren oder Schreibungen über älteren
Zeichen10 und drei Fehler auf, darunter zweimal eine unnötig gesetzte Partikel
der direkten Rede (-wa)11 und eine singuläre Verbalform (linkanta für likta, li-
nikta oder linkatta).12
Man könnte also sagen, dass es sich um einen relativ fehlerfreien Text han-
delt, der allerdings häufig korrigiert wurde. War der Schreiber also etwas fah-
rig, aber doch so konzentriert, sich sofort zu korrigieren?
Besonders in einem Vergleich mit den anfänglich vorgestellten Bauritualen
ist die Anzahl zumindest der Rasuren in dem Gerichtsprotokoll doch so be-
achtlich, dass fraglich sein muss, ob es sich hierbei wirklich um ein „in der
Kanzlei nachträglich ausgefertigtes Exemplar“, wie Werner mutmaßt, handelt.
Des Weiteren kommt hinzu, dass dieses Exemplar aus Tempel I stammt, dem
in der Komposition der Baurituale eine nicht unwichtige Rolle zukam, da in
ihm die Sammeltafel gefunden wurde, auf der sich sowohl die althethitische
Komposition CTH 725 als auch die junghethitische CTH 413 befinden. Dem
8 Vgl. das Foto von KUB 28.88 auf hethiter.net.

9 Für ein Beispiel siehe das Foto von KUB 13.35+ auf hethiter.net.
10 KUB 13.35+ Vs. i 2, 5, 19, 29, Vs. ii 10, 14, 37, Rs. iii 1, 6, 12, 18, 22, 23, 44, Rs. iv 4, 11, 22, 50.
11 KUB 13.35+ Vs. i 9, Rs. iii 22.
12 KUB 13.35+ Vs. i 9. Vgl. Werner 1967, 16 und CHD L–N: 62b.

504 Görke
Schreiber war der thematische Zusammenhang offenbar bewusst, ebenso wie

die Bedeutung des alten Textes (siehe dazu Görke – Torri 2014).
Zusammenfassend konnten in Bezug auf die Uneinheitlichkeit von Perso-
nendetermination Flüchtigkeit und Überlegungen des Schreibers in Bezug auf
den Gesamttext als mögliche Gründe angeführt werden. Darüber hinaus kann
auch das Textgenre eine Rolle spielen, denn bei drei Beispielen fanden sich die
„Fehlschreibungen“ in Katalogeinträgen, also nicht im Ritualtext selbst. Das
Gerichtsprotokoll wies zahlreiche Rasuren auf, so dass in Erwägung zu ziehen
ist, ob es sich um eine Niederschrift handelt, die im Zuge des Prozessabschlus-
ses überarbeitet—oder vernichtet—worden wäre. Die freigelassenen Zeilen
könnten dafür sprechen, dass zu einem späteren Zeitpunkt Notizen hinzuge-
fügt werden sollten. Das Fehlen eines so überarbeiteten Dokuments innerhalb
des hethitischen Textcorpus macht aber auch eine spätere Vernichtung nicht
unwahrscheinlich.
Diese Überlegungen machen deutlich, dass über einen Vergleich zweier
Textvertreter hinaus, der für die Interpretation der Entstehungs- und Überlie-
ferungsgeschichte eines Textes unerlässlich ist, auch textimmanente Beobach-
tungen für die Interpretation der von uns schnell als Fehler bezeichneten
Schreibungen notwendig sind.
Literatur
Cotticelli-Kurras, P. (2007) Versuch einer Fehlertypologie in der hethitischen Keil-

schrift, in D. Groddek and M. Zorman (eds.), Tabularia Hethaeorum: Hethitologische
Beiträge Silvin Košak zum 65. Geburtstag [DBH 25], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz,
175–202.
Dardano, P. (2006) Die hethitischen Tontafelkataloge aus Ḫattuša (CTH 276–282) [StBoT
Görke, S. and Torri, G. (2014) Bau(-)Rituale! Zur Textgeschichte von CTH 413–415 und
CTH 725–726, in: P. Taracha (ed.), Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress
of Hittitology, Warsaw, 5–9 September 2011, Warsaw: Agade, 331–343.
Güterbock, H.G. (1954) The Hurrian element in the Hittite Empire, Cahiers d’histoire
mondiale 2/2, 383–394.
Houwink ten Cate, Ph. H.J. (1968) Muwatallis’ “Prayer to be spoken in an emergency”:
an essay in textual criticism, JNES 27, 204–208.
Miller, J.L. (2004) Studies in the Origins, Development and Interpretation of the Kizzuwat-
na Rituals [StBoT 46], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
Rüster, Ch. (1988) Materialien zu einer Fehlertypologie der hethitischen Texte, in: E.
Neu (ed.), Documentum Asiae Minoris antiquae: Festschrift für Heinrich Otten zum
75. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 295–306.

Singer, I. (1996) Muwatalli’s Prayer to the Assembly of Gods through the Storm-God of
Lightning (CTH 381), Atlanta: Scholars Press.
Torri, G. and Görke, S. (2013) Hittite building rituals – Interaction between their ideo-
logical function and find spots, in: C. Ambos and L. Verderame (eds.), Approaching
Rituals in Ancient Cultures – Questioni di rito: Rituali come fonte di conoscenza delle
religioni e delle concezioni del mondo nelle culture antiche. Proceedings of the Confe-
rence, November 28–30, 2011, Roma [= RSO N.S. 86, Supplement 2], Pisa – Roma:
Serra, 287–300.
Werner, R. (1967) Hethitische Gerichtsprotokolle [StBoT 4], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Chapter 27
Personennamen der hethitischen Großreichszeit

als Quellen religiöser Verhältnisse
Manfred Hutter
Abstract
Name-giving is a common phenomenon in many societies, and among the Hittites as

well, “names” exhibit aspects of cultural traditions. On a linguistic level, Hittite names
take different forms, sometimes composed of a theophoric element or using a divine
name simply as a personal name. This paper attempts to analyse names from the Em-
pire Period to deduce some information from them about religious pluralism. It can be
shown that name-giving also takes into account some gods who play only a minor role
in the “official” religion of the Hittite Empire.
Keywords
name-giving – personal names – religious pluralism – names and ethnicity – “upper

class” names
1 Allgemeines zur Namensymbolik bei den Hethitern
Namengebung spielt in der mythologisch-epischen Überlieferung der hethi-

tischen Tradition eine wichtige Rolle (Hoffner 1968). Bekannt ist die Szene der
Namengebung im sogenannten Appu-Märchen (KUB 24.8 iii 4–17; Rieken et
al. 2009a: §§ 15–16; vgl. Ünal 1994: 850; Siegelová 1971: 10):
Und des Appu Frau gebar einen Sohn. Die [Wärte]rin hob den Sohn hoch
und setzte ihn Appu auf die Kn[i]e. Appu begann, sich über den Sohn zu
freuen, begann, ihn zu wiegen, und gab ihm den erstklassigen Namen
‚Schlecht‘ (nu-uš-ši-iš-ša-an ša-ni-iz-zi lam-an LÚḪUL-lu da-a-iš): „Da ihm
meine väterlic[hen] Götter nic[ht] den rechten Weg [wählten] und den
[bös]en Weg (beibe-)hielten, soll sein Name [‚Schlech]t‘ sein.“

Personennamen der hethitischen Großreichszeit 507
Dan[n] wurde [des A]ppu [Frau] zum zweiten Mal schwanger. Der
[zehnte] Mo[nat tra]t ein, und die Frau gebar einen Sohn. Die Wärterin
[ho]b [den Sohn hoch] [und setzte] ihn [Appu auf die Knie]. [Appu be-
gann, sich über] den Sohn zu fre[uen], bega[nn, ihn zu wiegen], und gab
ihm den Namen ‚Gerecht‘ (nu-uš-ši-kán NÍG.SI.SÁ-an ŠUM-an da-a-iš):
„Fo[rtan] soll man ihn mit dem Namen Gerecht rufen. Da für ih[n] meine
[väterlich]en Götter den rechten Weg einschlugen [und den guten Weg
beibehielten,] soll (sein) Name fortan ‚Gerecht‘ sein.“
Eine vergleichbare Szene schildert auch das Ullikummi-Lied, das zum Zyklus
um den Gott Kumarbi und dessen Kämpfe mit dem Wettergott Teššub gehört;
darin lesen wir (KUB 33.93+ iii 11–20; Rieken et al. 2009b: § 8; vgl. Ünal 1994:
833):
Die Schicksalsgöttinnen (und) die Muttergött[innen hoben das Kind

hoch] und setzten [ihn dem K]um[arbi] auf die K[nie]. [Kumar]bi
bega[nn], sich an je[nem S]oh[n] zu erfreuen. Er be[gann], ihn zu wiegen
und begann, (ihm) einen erstklassigen Namen […] zu [g]eben. Kumarbi
begann, zu [sich selb]st zu [spre]chen: „Welchen Namen [gebe] ich ihm?
(nu ša-ne-ez-zi ŠUM-an […p]é-eš-ki-u-wa-an da-a-iš) Der Sohn, den mir
die Schicksalsgöttinnen (und) die Muttergöttinnen gaben, sprang aus
dem Körper hervor wie ein Speer. Fort[an] soll Ullikummi (= ‚Zerstöre
Kumme!‘) der Name sein. Er soll in den Himmel zum [König]tum hinauf-
gehen. Er soll Kummiya, die [erst]klassige Stadt, niederdrücken.“
In beiden Fällen der Namengebung durch den Vater wird deutlich, dass mit
dem Namen eine Schicksalsbestimmung verbunden ist, die für das ganze Le
ben entscheidend ist. Allerdings muss man einschränkend berücksichtigen,
dass diese beiden Beispiele der (hurritisch beeinflussten) Literatur und My-
thologie nicht unbedingt direkt auf das Alltagsleben übertragen werden kön-
nen (vgl. Richter 2010: 505). Denn im Kontext der jeweiligen Erzählung sind die
beiden Namen zugleich programmatisch für die Erzählung: Der eine Bruder
„Schlecht“ bzw. wenn man das Wort Idalu als „Name“ auffasst ist der negative
Part des Appu-Märchens, und Ullikummis Name drückt den „Auftrag“ aus, die
Stadt Kummi(ya) zu zerstören; denn der hurritische Name Ullikummi ist nach
M. Giorgieri (2001: 149) als ull=i-Kummi zu analysieren, d.h. mit verbalem Vor-
derglied im Imperativ (2. Person Singular) der Basis ull- mit dem Ortsnamen
Kummi(ya) als Objekt. Die passende Übersetzung des Namens ist daher „Zer-
störe Kumme, (die Stadt des Wettergottes Teššub)“. Allerdings weicht diese

508 Hutter
Namenbildung als Satzname von der üblichen Struktur hurritischer Satzna-

men ab, da in den Satznamen in der Regel das Substantiv als Subjekt des ver-
balen Elements dient, und nicht als Objekt.
Trotz dieser Einschränkung der beiden bekanntesten Beispiele „hethiti
scher“ Namengebung ist unbestreitbar, dass der Name bei den Hethitern—wie
in vielen anderen Bereichen der Kulturgeschichte (Hutter 2010a)—mehr als
bloß „Schall und Rauch“ war. Formeln der „Namennennung“ des Opferman-
danten (bzw. des „Patienten“) in „Reinigungsritualen“ machen den Symbol
wert des Namens und die Notwendigkeit der Kenntnis des Namens für die
Identifizierung des Opfermandanten deutlich. Dass im „Namen“ einer Person
sein „Wesen“ liegt, zeigt m.E. die parallele Formulierung innerhalb weniger
Zeilen im Ritual der Zuwi (KUB 12.63 + KUB 36.70; vgl. auch das Duplikat KBo
22.118, r. Kol. 9’–10’; vgl. auch Puhvel 2002: 675); in i 12’–13’ lesen wir:
nu an-ni-iš-[ki-mi ku-in LÚ-an ŠUM-ŠU ḫal-zi-iḫ-ḫi:

„welchen Menschen ich behandle, dessen Namen rufe ich.“
Wenige Zeilen später, wenn in i 18’ wiederum auf den zu behandelnden Men-
schen Bezug genommen wird, heißt es hingegen:
nu-kán an-tu-uḫ-ša-aš ZI-ŠU ḫal-zi-iḫ-ḫi:

„und den Menschen, dessen Seele, rufe ich“.
Aber auch in vielen anderen Ritualen (vgl. Hutter 1988: 105–107; ferner CHD
L-N: 33–34) wird die formelhafte Namennennung (ähnlich wie in KUB 12.63+)
entweder in der 1. Person Singular oder in der 3. Person Singular genannt, um
dadurch den Opfermandanten zu „identifizieren“ und sein Schicksal oder
seine Probleme danach anzusprechen. Dass die Vorstellung bekannt war, dass
das böswillige Aussprechen des Namens eines anderen dem Namenträger
Schaden zufügen kann, sieht man gut in Paragraph 170 der Hethitischen Geset
ze (KBo 6.13 i 10–11; Hoffner 1997: 136):
ták-ku LÚ EL-LAM MUŠ-an ku-en-zi ta-me-el-la ŠUM-an te-ez-zi 1

MA.NA KÙ.BABBAR pa-a-i
„Wenn ein freier Mann eine Schlange tötet und den Namen eines anderen
(dabei) ausspricht, so zahlt er 1 Mine Silber.“
Auch das Gerichtsprotokoll KUB 40.83 Vs. 14–17 behandelt den Missbrauch
von Namen (Werner 1967: 64–65; vgl. Miller 2010: 181–182). Solche Beispiele
müssen hier genügen, um einen ersten Eindruck zu geben, dass Namen

d urchaus Aussagewert für die Rekonstruktion gesellschaftlicher Verhältnisse

im weitesten Sinn haben dürften.
Daher kann man fragen, ob sich ein Zusammenhang zwischen „Name und
Religion“ erkennen lässt. Obwohl—bei den Hethitern wie bei anderen
Kulturen—damit zu rechnen ist, dass Namen auch gewissen „Modeerschei-
nungen“ oder „Sinnentleerung“ (vgl. Hoffner 1968: 203) unterworfen sind,
erlauben „religiös konnotierte“ Personennamen (und ihre quantitative Ver
breitung) Rückschlüsse auf religiöse Vorstellungen und Entwicklungen (ein-
schließlich lokaler Unterschiede) in der hethitischen Großreichszeit. Daher
scheint mir die Skepsis von Rüdiger Schmitt (1991: 121–122) zu weit zu gehen,
wenn er formuliert:
„Religionshistorische Schlussfolgerungen sind also letztlich—so muss

man resümieren—nur dann erlaubt, wenn als einziges Namengebungs
element das (sit venia verbo) des Glaubensbekenntnisses übrigbleibt
und sich alle anderen denkbaren Motivationen definitiv ausschließen
lassen. Anders formuliert, heißt dies, dass sie nur dort statthaft sind, wo
onomastische Primärverwendung nachzuweisen ist. Nur der erste Schöp-
fer eines Namens mit religiösem Inhalt hat wahrscheinlich religiöse Mo-
tive für seine Namenschöpfung gehabt, für jede spätere Verwendung aber
haben möglicherweise andere Motive den Ausschlag gegeben.“
Denn auch wenn ein in der Familie bereits „traditionell“ verwendeter Name
(mit theophoren Inhalten) weiterverwendet wird, mag er wohl andeuten, dass
man dieses durch den Namen ausgedrückte religiöse Traditionsgut nicht
grundsätzlich leugnet. Dadurch gewinnen Personennamen Aussagekraft hin-
sichtlich religiöser Vorstellungen, die umso deutlicher hervortreten, wenn sich
Namensträger in eine größere prosopographische Vernetzung einfügen lassen.
Aber auch „isolierte“ Namen können—falls sie manche theophore Elemente
häufiger verwenden—zumindest Tendenzen religiöser Vorstellungen erken-
nen lassen; darüber hinaus lassen Namen aber auch die unterschiedlichen
ethnisch-kulturellen Strata der kleinasiatischen Geschichte erkennen, so dass
Onomastik nicht nur ein reichhaltiges linguistisches, sondern auch kulturge-
schichtliches Forschungsfeld darstellt.
2 Zur Namensform
Das im anatolischen Kulturraum vorliegende Namenmaterial von der ersten

Hälfte des 2. Jahrtausends bis zur hellenistischen Zeit bietet ein relativ großes

510 Hutter
(und aus verschiedenen Textgattungen stammendes) Corpus. Formal ist daran

zu erinnern, dass die indogermanischen Namen im anatolischen Onomas-
tikon sich nach R. Schmitt (1998: 71; vgl. Zehnder 2010: 32–45) auf fünf formale
Typen beziehen, während für hurritische Namen aus Kleinasien (Wilhelm
1998; Richter 2010) auch andere Bildungsmöglichkeiten vorliegen.
(a) Einstämmige Vollnamen sind häufig vertreten und werden als Appella-
tive verwendet (Laroche 1966: 335–341; Melchert 2013: 33–34), die auch
durch Ableitungen erweitert werden können.
(b) Zweistämmige Vollnamen sind entweder (1) Determinativkomposita
(Melchert 2013: 37–42) oder (2) Possessivkomposita, die häufig mit einem
theophoren Element verbunden sind (vgl. Tischler 2002: 76–77; Melchert
2013: 42–44).
(c) Kurznamen sind oft reine Theonyme als Personennamen (Laroche 1966:
281–282; Zehnder 2010: 40). Dabei handelt es sich in manchen Fällen
wohl insofern um eine Verkürzung, als das zweite Namenselement weg-
gelassen wurde; dies erklärt jene Fälle, in denen das Geschlecht des Na-
mensinhabers und das der Gottheit nicht übereinstimmen.
(d) Hypokoristika (Kosennamen) sind bislang nur anhand des Suffixes
-n(n)a/i- im Anatolischen belegt, so etwa eine mit dem (luwischen) Wet-
tergott Tarḫunta verbundene Person namens Tarḫunni (dU-ni), oder ein
gewisser Zidanna/i-, abgeleitet von zida/i-, d.h. als Kosename „Männ
chen“ (Zehnder 2010: 42–45; Melchert 2013: 48–49).
(e) Schließlich kann man noch Satznamen erwähnen. Melchert (2013: 44–
46) nennt vereinzelte Beispiele für diesen Namenstyp, dessen Verwen
dung im Hethitischen jedoch von hurritischer und akkadischer (bzw.
akkadisch-syrischer) Namengebung beeinflusst sein dürfte.
3 Theophore und religiöse Konnotationen
M. Popko (2008: 28–29) betont, dass Personennamen, die einen Gottesnamen

enthalten, charakteristisch für die kleinasiatische Anthroponymie sind, von
denen viele (luwische) bis in die hellenistische Zeit überleben (vgl. auch Hou-
wink ten Cate 1961). Trotz der oben von R. Schmitt genannten Skepsis ist hier
ein „positivistischer“ Ansatz gewählt, so dass aus den „religiös konnotierten“
Personennamen und ihrer quantitativen Verbreitung Rückschlüsse auf re-
ligiöse Strömungen in Kleinasien rekonstruiert werden; dadurch kann die On-
omastik einen Beitrag zum kulturellen Pluralismus im Hethiterreich liefern,
wobei die unterschiedlichen theophoren oder religiösen Elemente in den

amen teilweise auch—v.a. in der Großreichszeit—die sprachliche Rolle des

N
Hurritischen bzw. des Luwischen im Hethiterreich zeigen.
Das Namenmaterial soll daher als—bislang eher unbeachtet gebliebene—
Quelle für die Rekonstruktion der religiösen Verhältnisse im Hethiterreich
stärker genutzt werden. M.E. können anhand der Namen religiöse Überzeu-
gungen auch außerhalb der „Staatsreligion“ fassbar werden und möglicher-
weise wird eine (vorsichtige) Quantifizierung von „lokalen“ religiösen
Traditionen dadurch möglich. In einer diesbezüglichen Sichtung der Namen,
die auf den Siegelbullen, die Herbordt (2005) bearbeitet hat, vorkommen, lässt
sich Folgendes feststellen. Unter den 322 im Corpus von Herbordt genannten
„Prinzen- und Beamtennamen“ habe ich fünfzehn verschiedene theophore Bil-
dungselemente ausgemacht (Hutter 2010b: 401–403):
Anna (Herbordt 2005, Nr. 12, 13),

Arma (Nr. 27, 29, 52, 53, 58, 65, 68, 69),
Hebat (Nr. 11),
Innara (Nr. 126 (?), 136, 137),
Iyarri (Nr. 152),
Izzummi (Nr. 153),
Kurunta (Nr. 181, 186, 191, 603),
Piḫami (und Ableitungen von Piḫa-; Nr. 297, 298, 299, 303, 304, 305, 308,
312, 317, 558),
Runtiya (Nr. 108, 224, 275, 365, 373, 421, 569, 570, 601, 604),
Šarrumma (Nr. 75, 97, 98, 133, 163, 329, 322, 355, 391, 456, 571, 633),
Šaušga (Nr. 365, 373),
Tarḫunta (Nr. 82, 305, 410, 413, 414, 415, 418, 422, 648, 649, 650, 660, 662),
Tarupaššani (Nr. 105, 443),
Teššub (Nr. 104, 135, 151, 385, 404, 453, 504, 692),
Tiwad (Nr. 454, 460, 461, 462, 464, 465).
Von den insgesamt 15 theophoren Elementen sind zehn auf luwische und fünf
auf hurritische Götter zu beziehen; letztere sind Ḫebat, Izzummi, Šarrumma,
Šaušga und Teššub. Insgesamt sind es 83 Namen, die mit einem solchen Ele-
ment gebildet sind, d.h. rund ein Viertel der Namen des Bestandes ist davon
betroffen.
Betrachtet man jedoch nur die Namen des Kultpersonals, ergibt sich eine
andere Verteilung. Unter den Namen der Angehörigen des Kultpersonals, die
nur 18,1% des Gesamtensembles ausmachen, sind elf Theophorica vertreten,
davon bezeichnen neun luwische und lediglich zwei hurritische Gottheiten.

512 Hutter
Diesen Unterschied kann man dadurch erklären, dass es plausibel ist, dass die
Namen von Prinzen und Beamten—als der hurritisch geprägten Dynastie an-
gehörig oder nahe stehend—in ihrer Namengebung Götter des hurritischen
„dynastischen Pantheons“ (Taracha 2009: 92–95) stärker berücksichtigen als
dies beim Kultpersonal der Fall zu sein scheint.
Ein zweites vergleichbares Textensemble aus der Regierungszeit Hattušilis
iii. bzw. Tudḫaliyas iv. bietet weiteren Einblick in religiöse Konnotationen,
wobei es sich wiederum um Angehörige der Oberschicht handelt. Das Texten-
semble ergibt sich aus folgenden Texten: 37 Namen stammen aus der Gerichts
urkunde KUB 13.35+ (Werner 1967: 4–15), bei der es um die „Veruntreuung“ von
diversen Geräten und Wertgegenständen geht; der Text dürfte in die Regier-
ungszeit Ḫattušili iii. zu datieren sein. Weitere 29 Namen stammen aus der
Zeugenliste der Bronzetafel [BT] (des Kurunta-Vertrags) in Bo 86/299 (Otten
1988: 26–29) und 23 Namen stammen aus dem Ulmi-Teššub-Vertrag (KBo
4.10+; van den Hout 1995: 48–49); diese beiden Verträge stammen von
Tudḫaliya. Mit diesen Namen sind rund 90 Personen—manche kommen mehr
fach vor—bezeichnet, die wiederum der Elite des Hethiterreichs angehören;
in den zweistämmigen Namen begegnen folgende theophore Elemente:
(a) Schutzgottheit Ala
Alalimi (A-la-li-mi): BT iv 35 (Oberaufseher der 1000)
Alalimi (A-la-li-mi): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 32 (Ober-Mundschenk)
Alalimmi (A-la-li-im-mi): KUB 13.35+ iii 42
Alamuwa (A-la-mu-u-wa): KUB 13.35+ iii 43 (Knabe, Sohn)
Alantalli (A-la-an-ta-al-li): BT iv 36 (König von Mira)
(b) Mondgott Arma
Arma-piya(ma) (dXXX-SUM): KUB 13.35+ iii 42
Ḫuḫa-armati (Ḫu-ḫa-ar-ma-ti): KUB 13.35+ iii 41
(c) Šarrumma
Ari-Šarruma (A-ri-LUGAL-ma): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 29 (König von Išuwa)
Eḫli-Šarruma (Eḫ-li-LUGAL-ma): BT iv 34 (Prinz)
EN-Šarruma (EN-LUGAL-ma): BT iv 35 (Prinz)
Ḫešmi-Šarruma (Ḫe-eš-mi-LUGAL-ma): BT iv 34 (Prinz)
Ibri-Šarrumma (Ib-ri-LUGAL-ma): KUB 13.35+ iii 7
Taki-Šarruma (Ta-ki-LUGAL-ma): BT iv 35 (Prinz)
Tašmi-Šarruma (Tàš-mi-LUGAL-ma): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 28 (Prinz)
(d) Šaušga
Šaušgamuwa (Ša-uš-ga-mu-u-wa): BT iv 32 (Schwager des Königs)
Šaušga-ziti (dIŠTAR-LÚ): KUB 13.35+ iii 42
(e) Schutzgott von Ḫattuša
Ḫattuša-LAMMA (Ḫa-at-tu-ša-dLAMMA): BT iv 37 (Wein-Oberer)

Ḫattuša-LAMMA (Ḫa-at-tu-ša-dLAMMA): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 31

(Obermundschenk)
(f) Tarḫunta
Piḫa-Tarḫunta (Pí-ḫa-dU): KUB 13.35+ iii 13 (Eunuch)
Tarḫunta-Mimma (dU-mi-im-ma): KUB 13.35+ iii 20
Tarḫunta-nani (dU.ŠEŠ): KUB 13.35+ i 38 (Eunuch)
Tarḫunta-piya (dU.SUM): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 31 (Prinz)
Ura-Tarḫunta (GAL-dU): BT iv 38 (Ober-Gespannführer)
Ura-Tarḫunta (GAL-dU): KUB 13.35+ i 1
(g) Teššub
Ini-Teššub (I-ni-dU-ub): BT iv 31 (König von Karkamiš)
Ini-Tešsub (I-ni-dU-ub): KBo 4.10+ Rs. 29 (König von Karkamiš)
(h) Yarri
Yarrazalma (Ya-ar-ra-za-al-ma): KUB 13.35+ iii 15 (Goldknappe)
Yarra-ziti (Ya-ar-(ra)-LÚ): KUB 13.35+ iii 21
Insgesamt sind hier acht Götter im Onomastikon fassbar, auf die sich 28
Namen beziehen, d.h. ein Drittel des Materials. Ein weiterer Name Šarrumaš-
LAMMA (LUGAL-aš-dLAMMA; KBo 4.10+ Rs. 31) für einen Chef der Schwer-
bewaffneten ist zweideutig, indem man ihn als „Schutzgottheit des Šarruma“
oder als ein so genanntes Pseudodvandva, d.h. als Zusammenrückung der
beiden Gottesnamen Šarruma und LAMMA, interpretieren kann, wobei je-
doch die unterschiedliche formale Analyse die religionsgeschichtliche
Auswertung nicht betrifft. Interessant an diesen Namen ist dabei, dass im
Unterschied zum vorherigen Sample ein höherer Prozentsatz mit theophoren
Elementen gebildet ist. Auffallend ist aber eine ausgewogenere „Streuung“ der
religionsgeschichtlichen Verortung der Namen: Nur drei—Šarruma, Šaušga
und Teššub—sind der hurritischen Religionswelt zuzuweisen, drei weitere—
Arma, Tarḫunta, Yarri—der luwischen Religion, während die Schutzgottheit
seit althethitischer Zeit ein durchgehendes Konzept für die kleinasiatische Re-
ligionswelt darstellt. Ebenfalls auffallend ist, dass die Schutzgottheiten im
Onomastikon der Namen der Siegelfunde nicht vorkommen. Genauso ist zu
erwähnen, dass die Personen, deren Namen ein hurritisches theophores Ele-
ment aufweisen, bis auf zwei Fälle (Ibri-Šarruma, Šaušga-ziti—letzteres ein
hurritisch-luwischer „Mischname“) als Prinzen oder Könige ausgewiesen sind.
Ob dies nur ein Zufallsbefund ist oder ob die politische Oberschicht, die die
Staatsverträge bezeugt bzw. den Rechtsfall beurkundet, „näher“ zu religiösen
Vorstellungen steht, wie sie auch das Staatspantheon widerspiegelt, muss je-
doch offengelassen werden.
Genauso zeigt das Sample einige theophore Namen, die weder von „großen“
noch von in der späten Großreichszeit sehr aktiven Göttern abgeleitet werden

514 Hutter
können. Dazu gehört Ḫannutti (Ḫa-an-nu-ut-ti), der in KBo 4.10+ Rs. 28 als
Prinz (DUMU.LUGAL) bezeichnet wird. Der einstämmige Personenname ist
durch das Suffix -(t)ti- vom Gottesnamen Ḫannu abgeleitet. Ein Tempel des
Gottes Ḫannu ist gelegentlich in den großen Festen (KI.LAM-Fest; 8. Tag des
nuntarriyašḫa-Festes; 17. Tag des AN.TAḪ.ŠUM-Festes) genannt (vgl. Laroche
1966: 292; van Gessel 1998: 86), allerdings spielt der Gott im Kult eine unterge-
ordnete Rolle. Man kann ihn wohl der hattischen Religionswelt zuordnen; mit
Schwund des hattischen Einflusses ist auch die Rolle des Gottes im Hethiter-
reich rückläufig. Insofern ist dieser Name möglicherweise nicht mehr als eine
Tradierung eines theophoren Elementes, das aber vielleicht nur noch wenige
religiöse Aussagekraft besaß.
Der Name Tattamaru (Ta-at-ta-ma-ru), der einmal als Chef der Schwerbe-
waffneten (BT iv 33) und einmal als Prinz (KBo 4.10+ Rs. 30) bezeichnet
wird, ist eventuell ein zweigliedriger Name, der aus dem Gottesnamen Tatta
und dem Farbadjektiv maru- (rot) gebildet ist. Allerdings ist auch Tatta (van
Gessel 1998: 460), wahrscheinlich eine Wettergottgestalt, nur marginal im he-
thitischen Schrifttum belegt, einmal bei einer Stelenbeschreibung (CTH 511)
und in einem von einem Prinzen gefeierten Fest (CTH 647; vgl. Taracha 2005:
712). Insofern ist auch dieser theophore Name nur bedingt als aussagekräftig
für „lebendige“ lokale religiöse Verhältnisse der späten Großreichszeit zu
werten.
Möglicherweise ebenfalls des „theophoren Bewusstseins“ entkleidet dürfte
der gut bezeugte Name Ḫuzziya (Ḫu-uz-zi-ya) sein. In BT iv 31 trägt ein Oberster
der Leibwache diesen Namen, in KBo 4.10+ Rs. 29 ein Prinz (DUMU.LUGAL)
und in KUB 13.35+ iv 28 ein Holztafelschreiber (LÚDUB.SAR.GIŠ). Der Name,
der in althethitischer Zeit auch als Königsname belegt ist, ist formal ein ein-
stämmiger Personenname. Der Gott Ḫuzziya ist mit Ḫakpiš als seinem Kultort
verbunden, bleibt in seinem Wirken aber weitgehend darauf beschränkt (van
Gessel 1998: 175–176; vgl. Taracha 2009: 27).
Als letzter Name ist noch Uppara-muwa (Up-pa-ra-A.A in KBo 4.10+ Rs. 30;
Up-pa-ra-mu-u-wa in BT iv 33) als Aufseher der Goldknappen zu nennen; den
Namen interpretiere ich als Bahuvrihi, „der die Kraft des Gottes Up(a)ra hat“.
Allerdings ist das erste namenbildende Element nicht unumstritten: Melchert
(2013: 44) sieht darin das Adjektiv uppara- „größer, höher“, so dass er den Na-
men als Bahuvrihi in der Bedeutung „der eine größere Kraft hat“ versteht. Sieht
man im Vorderglied jedoch ein theophores Element, so verweist der Name auf
den Gott Upra, der im hethitischen Kontext einmal in KUB 38.10 iv 9 belegt ist
(van Gessel 1998: 540), ohne dass sich über seine Funktionen etwas aussagen
ließe. Als (theophorer) Name bleibt der Name bis in die hellenistische Zeit
nachweisbar, wie die Wiedergabe als Οπραμοας zeigt (vgl. Laroche 1966: 292;
Houwink ten Cate 1961: 162–163).

4 Zusammenfassung
Diese kurzen Bemerkungen zu wenigen Namen aus einigen ausgewählten

Textzusammenhängen werfen eine Fülle von Fragen auf. Dennoch kann man
ein vorsichtiges Resümee ziehen: Theophore und religiöse Bildungselemente
dürften bei einem Viertel bis vielleicht einem Drittel der Namen vorliegen, wo-
bei aber auch andere Namenselemente Einblick in die Benennungsmotive und
somit in die Vorstellungswelt der Hethiter—und wohl auch für Bewohner
der „neo-hethitischen Nachfolgestaaten“—geben. Die hier berücksichtigten
Beispiele waren dabei an Namenträgern der Eliten orientiert, konnten jedoch
vorsichtige Rückschlüsse auf hurritisch bzw. luwisch geprägte Vorstellungen
bzw. „Vorlieben“ geben. Wie die letzten Beispiele zeigten, bleibt aber manches
derzeit unsicher. Manche Namen bewahren Götternamen, deren Verehrung
uns aus anderen Texten kaum als besonders wichtig—oder nur noch in einge-
schränkter lokaler Verehrung—erscheint: Sind solche Namen nur noch Zeug-
nisse einer der Inhalte weitgehend entleerten Tradition? Oder sind solche
Namen doch Zeugnis von lokalen—und eng umgrenzten—Kulten, die in den
aus der Perspektive der Hauptstadt Ḫattuša orientierten Textüberlieferungen
keine Rolle spielen und deswegen in diesen literarischen, administrativen und
religiösen Überlieferungen nur äußerst marginal erscheinen?
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tolia, in: R. Parker (ed.), Personal Names in Ancient Anatolia [Proceedings of the
British Academy 191], Oxford: Oxford University Press, 31–49.
Miller, J.L. (2010) Practice and perception of black magic among the Hittites, AoF 37,
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Beiheft 1], Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
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tiqua, 111–128.
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Chapter 28
Die Gottheit Nikarawa in Karkamiš

Sylvia Hutter-Braunsar
Abstract
The deity Nikara(wa) of KARKAMIŠ A 6 §31 is not the Mesopotamian healing-goddess

Ninkarrak as I. Gelb long ago suggested, but an Old Syrian deity, who is also mentioned
in the Aramaic inscriptions of Kuttamuwa and in Sfire A. She was associated with dogs,
for which reason she could be equated with the Sumerian healing goddesses Gula,
Nin-Isina and others, but Nikara(wa)’s dogs were terrifying. KARKAMIŠ A 6 §31, the
Kuttamuwa Stele and Sfire A thus do not attest the veneration of the Mesopotamian
Ninkarrak, but rather the survival of a genuine Syrian deity.
Keywords
Nikarawa – Ninkarrak – Syrian goddess – Luwian – Karkamiš – Sfire – Kuttamuwa –

dog – curse
1 Einleitung
1.1 B. Hrozný
B. Hrozný hat nicht nur den indogermanischen Charakter der hethitischen
Sprache nachgewiesen und somit den Grundstein für das Verstehen der Texte
ermöglicht, sondern auch in zahlreichen Arbeiten zur Entzifferung des Hiero-
glyphenluwischen beigetragen. Daher ist es angebracht, in diesem Band zu
seinen Ehren einige Überlegungen zu einem Paragraphen einer hieroglyphen-
luwischen Fluchformel anzustellen.
1.2 Fluchformeln
Diese sind in altvorderasiatischen Stiftungsinschriften sehr häufig und wurden
für ein probates Mittel gehalten, den Inschriftenträger zu schützen und die Er-
füllung der darauf festgehaltenen Kultvorschriften sicherzustellen. Auch die
hieroglyphenluwischen Inschriften der frühen Eisenzeit beinhalten solche

Die Gottheit Nikarawa in Karkamiš 519
Flüche. Ein Beispiel aus der Inschrift CEKKE (§24, Hawkins 2000: 146; aus Kar-
kamiš) mag genügen:
… Ihm sollen der Wettergott des Himmels, Karhuha, Kubaba, der ‚Gute
Gott‘, Ea, der Mondgott (und) der Sonnengott tödlich/verhängnisvoll
entgegentreten.
Demjenigen, der den Inschriftenträger zerstört oder den Namen des Stifters
durch seinen eigenen ersetzt, werden radikale Strafen angedroht; die diese
Strafe vollziehenden Götter sind teils überregional verehrte Gottheiten und—
seltener—lokale Gottheiten.
Von diesem häufigen Muster weicht die Fluchformel, die hier besprochen
werden soll, erheblich ab.
2 Die Belege
2.1 KARKAMIŠ A 6 §31

Die Inschrift KARKAMIŠ A 6 (Hawkins 2000: 123–128; pl. 31–33) datiert in das
ausgehende 9. bzw. beginnende 8. Jh.1 und stammt von einem gewissen Jarri,
der anscheinend die Regierungsgeschäfte nach dem Tod des Herrschers Asti-
ruwa leitete, bis dessen Sohn Kamani alt genug war, den Thron seines Vaters zu
besteigen.2 Obwohl in §20 der Inschrift Tarhunt, die Sonnengottheit, Kubaba
und „alle Götter“ genannt sind, ist am Ende der Fluchformel in §31 nur eine
einzige—und dazu eine ganz andere—Gottheit genannt:
á-pa-pa-wa/i-‘ (DEUS)ni-ka+ra/i-wa/i-sá CANIS-ni-i-zi á-pa-si-na

CAPUT-hi-na ARHA EDERE-tu
„dessen Kopf sollen die Hunde der Nikarawa auffressen.“3
1 Hawkins 2000: 124; Giusfredi 2010: 294 datiert die Inschrift ins 8. Jh.
2 Payne 2012: 81, Giusfredi 2010: 57. Allerdings ist in KARKAMIŠ A 7 §14 (Hawkins 2000: 129)
möglicherweise Tuwarsai als Kronprinz genannt.
3 Text nach Hawkins 2000: 125; dort findet sich die Übersetzung „(for) him may Nikarawas‘
dogs eat up his head!“ Bei Payne 2012: 84 ist §31 folgendermaßen übersetzt: „…, may the dogs
of Nikarawas eat up his head!“ Ich fasse diesen Paragraphen als schema kat’ holon kai meros
auf („ihn aber (apan=pa=wa), (nämlich) seinen Kopf sollen die Hunde Nikarawas auffres-
sen!“). I. Yakubovich teilt mir mündlich mit, dass er das erste Wort (á-pa-, ACLT appan „be-
hind“), das ich als Demonstrativpronomen in der Funktion als Personalpronomen für die

520 Hutter-Braunsar
Nikarawa in dieser Form ist hier hapax legomenon.
2.2 Mögliche weitere Belege aus eisenzeitlichen luwischen Inschriften

In Tabal, in der Inschrift BULGARMADEN (Hawkins 2000: 523), ist in der
Fluchformel in §16 nach Tarhunt, „den Göttern“ allgemein und dem Mondgott
eine Gottheit Nikaruha und erst danach Kubaba aufgezählt, bevor der Text
abbricht. Im Kommentar zur Stelle setzt Hawkins diese Gottheit mit Nikarawa
aus der vorhin zitierten Karkamiš-Inschrift gleich (Hawkins 2000: 525 ad
§16). Ebenfalls in Tabal, in der Inschrift KAYSERİ (Hawkins 2000: 473), ist in
der Fluchformel in §8 ein abgebrochener Gottesname erhalten: („DEUS“)
ní-ka-[…], den J.D. Hawkins in der Übersetzung zu Nikaruha ergänzt und im
Kommentar zur Stelle (Hawkins 2000: 474 ad loc.) auf das Vorkommen dersel-
ben Gottheit in der BULGARMADEN-Inschrift verweist.
3 Die Gottheit mit dem Hund
Normalerweise sind in den hieroglyphischen Inschriften Götter sehr stereotyp

aufgezählt. Bei Nikarawa in KARKAMIŠ A 6 ist die Erwähnung von Hunden
bemerkenswert und könnte bei einer Identifizierung helfen. In Mesopotamien
wurde die Heilgottheit Gula verehrt. Andere Heilgöttinnen wurden mit ihr
identifiziert bzw. als andere Namen der Gula aufgefasst; dies sind vor allem
Nin-Isina, Baba, Gunura, Nintinugga und Ninkarrak (Frankena 1971). Wie Gula
ist auch Ninkarrak mit Hunden assoziiert. Der Hinweis darauf, dass es sich bei
der Gottheit aus KARKAMIŠ A 6 §31 um Ninkarrak handelt, stammt von I.
Gelb aus dem Jahre 1938.
4 Die lautliche Übereinstimmung
4.1 /n/
/n/ wird im Luwischen vor Verschlusslauten nicht geschrieben.
dritte Person auffasse, als Adverb „hinterher“ auffasst, da es im Hieroglyphenluwischen kein

schema mit Possessivsuffix gebe. Man vgl. aber dazu JISR EL HADID 4 (ACLT) §2: á-mu-pa-
wa/i-na CERVUS+RA/I-ta-pi-sá á-pi-si-na COR-tara/i-i-na i-zi-i-ha, den man wohl wörtlich
mit „Ich, Runtappi, aber machte ihn, (nämlich) seine Statue.“ Dass diese Ausdrucksweise
aber nicht die in den eisenzeitlichen Inschriften übliche ist, zeigt beispielsweise der §32 aus
der Fluchformel von TELL AHMAR 6 (Hawkins 2006: 16–17): a-wa/i pa-si-na-‘ (CA-
PUT)ha+ra/i-ma-hi-na FEMINA-ti-i-na INFANS-ni-na INFRA-ta (BIBERE)pa-sà-tú „Möge er
(Tarhunt des Heeres) seinen Kopf, (seine) Frau (und sein) Kind verschlucken.“ Zum schema
im Hethitischen vgl. zuletzt Cotticelli-Kurras 2016.

4.2 Das Suffix -wa

Das Suffix -wa hat nach F. Starke4 die Bedeutung „ausgestattet mit“, z.B. im
Personennamen Tarkasnawa. Andererseits kann es bei manchen Namen an-
gehängt sein oder fehlen, ohne dass ein Bedeutungsunterschied erkennbar ist,
wie beispielsweise mInnara(wa); indirekt bezeugt ist so ein Fall auch beim Na-
men Warpalawa, der in assyrischen Quellen Ur-bal-la lautet.
4.3 Wegfall des -ak

Für den Wegfall des -ak ist mit Joan Goodnick Westenholz (2010: 379–380) die
Schreibung des Namens eines Archivaufsehers aus der frühen Isin-Zeit zu nen-
nen: die häufigste Schreibung ist Šu-dNin-kar-ak mit der selteneren Variante
Šu-dNin-kar-ra-ak. Manchmal ist der Name aber auch einfach nur ŠU-dNin-kar-
ra geschrieben.5 Andererseits hat der Gottesname keine glaubhafte Etymolo-
gie; dazu kommen exzeptionelle Schreibungen wie Ni-kà-ra-ak (altassyrisch)
und dNin-ni-ka-ra-ak, die darauf hinweisen könnten, dass es sich dabei um
eine sumerische „Volksetymologie“ handelt, indem der Name auf der Grund-
lage der Namen mit nin als erstem Bestandteil sumerisch gedeutet wurde, was
auf eine ursprüngliche Namensform Nik(k)arak deutet. Als weiteres Argument
können die Namen von Gottheiten nichtsumerischen Ursprungs dienen, die
auf -ak enden, wie Latarak, Tišpak, Inzak und Meskilak. Die beiden letzteren
sind Gottheiten von Dilmun (Westenholz 2010: 381). Es ist eine weitere Göttin
belegt, deren Name jenem der Nikarawa mehr gleicht: ab der dritten Dynastie
von Ur (Ur III) ist in Girsu eine Gottheit des Tageslichts mit der Schreibung
dNin-kár(-ra) belegt, die sicher von der Göttin dNin-kar-ak zu trennen ist. Für
andere Orte lassen die Belege keine Entscheidung darüber zu, ob damit die
Göttin des Tageslichts dNinkar gemeint ist, oder es sich um eine Kurzschrei-
bung für Ninkarrak handelt, was aber wohl für die Mehrheit der altakkadi-
schen Belege der Fall ist (Westenholz 2010: 379–380).
5 Bronzezeitliche Belege
5.1 Ninkarrak im akkadisch-babylonischen Bereich

Die Belege für Ninkarrak in Mesopotamien hat Westenholz in einem Aufsatz
aus dem Jahre 2010 gesammelt.6 Es zeigt sich die große Beliebtheit der
4 Starke 1990: 183; vgl. Hawkins and Morpurgo Davies 1998: 249–250 mit weiterer Literatur.
5 Deshalb geht sie davon aus, dass im Altbabylonischen die meisten Schreibungen dNin-kar
mit dNin-kar-ak identifiziert werden müssen (Westenholz 2010: 380).
6 Die folgenden Belege sind—wenn nicht anders angegeben—dem zitierten Aufsatz
entnommen.

522 Hutter-Braunsar
inkarrak durch den Beleg in der Fluchformel des Codex Hammurabi Z. 50–
N
69, aber auch ihre Erwähnung in literarischen Texten wie dem Adapa-Epos
(Fragment D 16’–17’).
Bereits ab der altakkadischen Periode ist Ninkarrak sehr oft belegt, auch als
Bestandteil von Personennamen; sie ist als Heilgöttin charakterisiert. Auch im
(frühen) zweiten Jahrtausend ist ihr Kult in Mesopotamien, besonders in Sip-
par, gut belegt. Dort kam es—wahrscheinlich durch Migranten aus Isin—zur
Gleichsetzung von Nin-Isina/Gula mit Ninkarrak, die soweit geht, dass der
theophore Bestandteil des Personennamens bei ein und derselben Person
wechseln kann. In Fluchformeln auf mittelbabylonischen Kudurrus ist sie
ebenfalls einige Male belegt. Auf anderen Kudurrus steht an ihrer Stelle Gula.
5.2 Belege aus dem obermesopotamisch-syrischen Bereich

An Belegen aus dem hurritischen Bereich sind nur Personennamen bekannt:
Zi-li-ni-ka-ra-ak7 bzw. Sili-Ninkarrak (Haas and Wilhelm 1972: 8) und fNi-ka-
ra-ak-um-mi (Gelb, Purves and MacRae 1943: 106).
In Mari taucht Ninkarrak in einer Opferliste aus der Zeit Zimri-Lims auf.8
Sie wird hier an 22. Stelle von 25 Gottheiten genannt. Anscheinend ist die Liste
zwar nicht nach der Wichtigkeit bzw. dem Rang der Gottheiten geordnet, da
die erste Göttin (die Herrin des Palastes) nur sechs Schafe erhält, die Zweitge-
nannte nur zwei, während die neunte Göttin auf der Liste (Ištar von Dīrītum)
sieben erhält. Da Ninkarrak nur ein Schaf erhält, erscheint sie in dieser Liste
als nicht sehr prominente Vertreterin des Pantheons. Außerdem ist sie als „Au-
torin“ einer Beschwörung belegt.
In Terqa am mittleren Euphrat wurde ein Tempel der Ninkarrak aus altbaby-
lonischer Zeit ausgegraben, in dem Gefäße und eine Tontafel mit dem Siegel
eines gewissen Gimil-Ninkarrak gesiegelt wurden; auch eine Bronzestatuette
eines Hundes wurde dort gefunden.
In Ugarit kommt Ninkarrak bislang nur ein einziges Mal in einer Beschwö-
rung gegen eine Augenkrankheit vor: auch hier wird sie zusammen mit Damu
als Urheberin dieser Beschwörung genannt (Westenholz 2010: 389–390). Der
Beleg ist als Produkt der Schreibergelehrsamkeit zu werten wie jener aus Hat-
tusa (s. dazu gleich).
Im mittelassyrischen Königsritual huldigt der König der Ninkarrak als einer
unter 246 Gottheiten. Zwei mittelassyrische Abschriften einer sumerisch-
akkadischen zweisprachigen Hymne mit Ritualhandlungen für Ninkarrak—
geschrieben von einem Herrn namens Iqīša-dNinkarrak—nennen im
7 Gelb, Purves and MacRae 1943: 23 (s. v. APIL-SIN 2); dieser Personenname war auch in Sippar
gebräuchlich: Westenholz 2010: 384–385 mit Anm. 24.
8 Text bei Haas 1994: 564–565; vgl. auch Westenholz 2010: 387.

a kkadischen Text Ninkarrak, an deren Stelle im sumerischen Text aber der

Name Nin-Isina steht. Das Vorhandensein dieser Texte spricht für die Möglich-
keit, dass Ninkarrak einen Tempel im Bereich Assurs hatte.
5.3 Belege aus Anatolien

Der altassyrische Text TC 2 54 Rs. 8 („3 Minen verfeinertes Kupfer, der Ninkar-
rak gehörig“) zeigt die Schreibung Ni-kà-ra-ak (Hirsch 1961: 51 Anm. 265).9 Ein
weiterer Beleg ist Kt 94/k, 821, eine Beschwörung gegen Lamaštu mit folgen-
dem Formular am Ende: „Diese Beschwörung ist nicht von mir, sie ist von
Ninkilil, dem Herrn der Beschwörung; Ninkarrak (Ni-kà-ra-ak) hat sie ‚gewor-
fen‘“ (Westenholz 2010: 388).
In den Texten aus Hattusa kommt Ninkarrak—soweit ich weiß—nur ein-
mal vor; dabei handelt es sich um einen mittelbabylonischen Text der Serie
ana pišerti kišpī („Zur Lösung des Zaubers“, CTH 804.A), nämlich KUB
37.48+:
Diese Beschwörung ist nicht meine; es ist die Beschwörung von Damu
und Ninkarrak. Es ist die Beschwörung des Weisen der Götter, Marduk.
abusch and schwemer 2011: 35 und passim.
Dieser Text ist sicher kein Beleg für die Verehrung Ninkarraks im hethitischen
Reich, sondern ein Beispiel hethitischer Schreibergelehrsamkeit.
Nach der Untersuchung der in der Forschung angenommenen Etymologien
für den Namen Nin-karrak, z.B. als „Herrin des Kais“, und der Untersuchung
aller Belege kommt Westenholz zu der Auffassung, dass es sich bei dieser
Göttin nicht um eine genuin sumerisch-mesopotamische oder akkadische
Gottheit handelt wie bei jenen, die schon im dritten Jahrtausend spezifische
Kultstätten in Mesopotamien im sumerischen Milieu hatten: Nintinuga in Nip-
pur, Nin-Isina in Isin, Gula in Umma. Die Verehrung Ninkarraks kam demnach
in Obermesopotamien auf, aber die Quellenlage lässt nicht zu, ihren Ursprung
geographisch genauer einzugrenzen. Das spiegelt sich in der Beleglage inso-
fern wider, als in zweisprachigen Texten oder Listen im sumerischen Text Gula
(und selten Nin-Isina), im akkadischen Text jedoch Ninkarrak vorkommt. Für
die babylonischen Theologen war Ninkarrak die akkadische Heilgöttin par ex-
cellence. Ihre Herkunft aus Obermesopotamien ist aber auch dadurch ersicht-
lich, dass sie in Mari, in Emar und Assyrien mit der Gottheit Išhara zusammen
9 Westenholz (2010: 381) schließt aus dieser Schreibung zusammen mit der altbabylonischen
Schreibung dNin-ni-ka-ra-ak, dass der ursprüngliche Name Nik(k)arrak lautete und nach
dem Beispiel der „Nin+“ Namen sumerisch umgedeutet wurde.

524 Hutter-Braunsar
auftritt. Sie könnte dem vorsemitischen Substrat Syriens zuzuordnen sein

(Westenholz 2010: 397).10
6 Eisenzeitliche Belege
Unzählige Belege für Ninkarrak stammen aus dem neubabylonischen Bereich.

Es sind u.a. mehrere Inschriften Nebukadnezars II. bekannt, in denen Ninkar-
rak genannt ist. Nebukadnezar baute für sie Tempel in Borsippa, Sippar und
Babylon; für Babylon wechselt in einigen Quellen—z. B. bei der Nennung ihres
Tempels É-ḫursaĝ-sikila—der Name Ninkarrak mit dem der Gula. Die Opfer-
listen enthalten nur den Namen Gula. Im Gula-Hymnus bezeichnet sich Gula
u.a. auch als Ninkarrak. Dieser Text der Schreibertradition fand eine weite Ver-
breitung in ganz Babylonien und Assyrien. Diese Belege zeigen das Bild jener
Göttin, die als akkadische Form der Heilgöttin Gula angesehen wurde, und
bringen nichts für die Identifizierung der Gottheit Nikarawa.
Regional näher zur Karkamiš-Inschrift liegt jener neuassyrische Beleg, den
I. Gelb als einzigen in seinem kleinen Beitrag zu Nikarawa zitiert: Es handelt
sich dabei um die „Beschwörung zur Beruhigung des (fremden) Zornes“:11
„[Nin]karrak, halte/packe deine Welpen; lege ein ‚Schloss‘ vor den Mund dei-
ner starken/mächtigen Hunde!“
7 Aramäische Belege
7.1 Die Kuttamuwa-Stele

Diese wurde in Sam’al/Zincirli gefunden und stammt aus der zweiten Hälfte
des 8. Jh. v.Chr. (Kottsieper 2011: 322–323). In der darauf befindlichen Inschrift
werden Opfer für verschiedene Götter und die Seele (nbš) Kuttamuwas fest-
gelegt; die Götter sind folgende (nach Niehr 2014: 189):
Hadad qrpdl, Nikarawa

Šamaš, Hadad des Weingartens
Kubaba, Seele (nbš) des Kuttamuwa
10 Stillschweigend wird vom weiblichen Geschlecht der Gottheit ausgegangen, wohl weil
sonst eine Gleichsetzung mit Gula nicht möglich gewesen wäre.
11 vat 8258 = kai 71 Vs. 5–6. Beleg aus Gelb 1938: 202. Dort lautet die Übersetzung: „O
[Nin]karrak, hold fast your young dogs, put a muzzle on the jaws of your mighty dogs!“;
vgl. Westenholz 2010: 395.

Niehr schließt sich mit der Lesung „Nikarawa“ dabei der Deutung Emilia
Massons (2010: 53) an. Diese Stele liefert einerseits den ersten Beleg der in hie-
roglyphenluwischen Inschriften so häufig genannten Göttin Kubaba in
Zincirli. Andererseits zeigte Ilya Yakubovich auf, dass das Epitheton Hadads
qrpdl aus dem Luwischen hergeleitet werden kann, nämlich von der Wurzel
harp „sich jemandem anschließen“ („to associate oneself, to join“), sodass das
Epitheton „Gefährte“ („companion“) bedeuten würde. Dies ist zwar eine Hypo-
these, solange das Epitheton als Solches im Anatolischen nicht belegt ist, aber
die Struktur des Wortes—vor allem die Länge—zeigt, dass es kein semitisches
Epitheton sein kann (Yakubovich 2010: 396 mit Anm. 7). Auch der Name Kutta-
muwa ist luwisch. Zuletzt sei noch auf das weitere Epitheton Hadads hinge-
wiesen: In den Inschriften SULTANHAN §28 (Hawkins 2000: 465–466) und
BOR §4 (ebd. 520) aus Tabal hat der luwische Wettergott Tarhunt das Epithe-
ton „des Weingartens (tuwa/ira/isasa/i-)“.
Vor dem Hintergrund dieser vier Elemente, die einen kulturellen Verweis
auf die eisenzeitlichen luwischen Inschriften bieten, ist es verlockend, in die-
ser Inschrift ebenfalls einen Beleg für die Göttin Nikara(wa) zu sehen. Das Pro-
blem dabei ist, dass der Name eindeutig mit der Media geschrieben ist, was
aber ein Spezifikum dieser Inschrift sein kann, in der auch das Wort für „Seele“
(nbš) mit der Media /b/ geschrieben ist.
Ingo Kottsieper, der den Text für die „Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testa-
ments“ übersetzt hat, folgt in der Deutung der Lautfolge lngd/r ṣwd/rn12 dem
Bearbeiter des Textes und übersetzt „für den Vorsteher des Mahles” (Kottsieper
2011: 323 Anm. 9). D. Pardee deutet ngd als “Beamter” (“officer”) und sieht hin-
ter der Lautfolge ṣwd/rn entweder die (arabische) Wurzel ṢWD „essen“ oder
ṢYD „jagen“, womit die Phrase „der Vorsteher des Mahles“ oder „der Vorsteher
der Jagd“ bedeuten würde (Pardee 2009: 61) Dies ist eine sehr unwahrscheinli-
che Rekonstruktion eines Titels für eine Gottheit, der sonst nirgends belegt ist
und in der Reihe der Eigennamen singulär bliebe.
7.2 Die Stele von Sfire A

Hierbei handelt es sich um einen Vertrag zwischen Bar-Ga’yah von einem Ort
namens Ktk mit Mati‘-Il von Arpad aus dem 8. Jh.13 In der Liste der göttlichen
Zeugen stehen zuerst sieben Paare mesopotamischer Götter:
12 Die Konsonanten d und r sind in dieser Inschrift graphisch nicht unterschieden, s. fig. 3
bei Pardee 2009: 55.
13 Terminus ante quem ist die Eroberung Arpads durch Tiglatpileser iii. ca. 740 v. Chr. (Röss-
ler 1983: 187).

526 Hutter-Braunsar
[Assur] und Mulissu; Marduk und Ṣarpanitu; Nabû und Ta[šmētu; Girra
und Nus]ku; Nergal und Laṣ; Šamaš und Nêr, Sî[n und Nikkal von …];
danach beginnt die Aufzählung der aramäischen Gottheiten mit einer anderen
Gliederung. An erster Stelle der aramäischen bzw. westsemitischen Gottheiten
steht [w-q]dm nkr w-kd’h] „vor Nikkar und Kd’h“ (Voigt 1994: 63–68). Danach
folgen „alle Götter der Steppe und des Kulturlandes, Hadad von Aleppo und
Sebettu, Il und Ilyan, Himmel und Erde, Meeresgrund und Quellen, Tag und
Nacht“ (Rössler 1983: 180).
Als Gegenargument für eine Identifizierung von nkr mit Nikara(wa) könnte
man anbringen, dass die Götterpaare davor jeweils aus einem männlichen
Gott mit seiner weiblichen Begleitung bestehen, sodass also nkr eine männli-
che Gottheit sein sollte. Aber mit diesem Paar ist mit dem Wechsel zu den
westsemitischen Göttern auch eine Abkehr von diesem Schema der ersten sie-
ben Götterpaare erkennbar, wodurch das Gegenargument, es müsse sich bei
dem diskutierten Namen um den einer männlichen Gottheit handeln, nicht
greift. Lautlich passt dieser Beleg sehr gut zu Nikara(wa).
8 Schlussfolgerungen
8.1 Die Hunde der Nikarawa

Dass Hunde Begleiter der mesopotamischen Heilgöttinen waren, wurde und
wird in der Forschung damit begründet, dass das Lecken der Hunde an offenen
Wunden deren Heilung befördern kann (Marchetti 2014: 317 mit Literatur).
Textliche Belege für diese Verwendung der Hunde sind mir zwar nicht bekannt,
jedenfalls kann man aber aus den Belegen mit Johannes Nikel sagen,
… daß der Hund, wo immer er als Symbol für eine Gottheit [er meint an-
dere Heilgöttinnen] außer Ninkarrak nachweisbar ist, als schützendes,
den Feind abwehrendes Tier aufzufassen ist. Somit ist auch aus diesem
Grunde nicht unwahrscheinlich, dass der Hund der Gula [mit der der Au-
tor Ninkarrak gleichsetzt] als schützendes Tier zu gelten hat und im Zu-
sammenhange mit dem Charakter der Gula als einer Heilgöttin steht.
nikel 1918: 64.
Aus den zahlreichen Quellen geht eindeutig hervor, dass Ninkarrak für die
Heilung von Krankheiten zuständig ist (Westenholz 2010: passim); als „Herrin
über die Krankheiten“ kann sie solche auch jemandem anheften, wie das in
den Fluchformeln zum Ausdruck kommt. Darin kommt Ninkarrak auch vor,

a llerdings nicht ihre Hunde. Als Beispiel sei der Teil eines Fluches von zwei
babylonischen Kudurrus zitiert:
Nin]-[karak] [… soll seinen Samen] einsamm[eln, …] seine Nach

kom[menschaft] a[us dem Gedächtnis] der Me[nschen] …
U 15; paulus 2014: 789.
Einen noch schlechter erhaltenen, aber datierten Beleg findet man auf dem
Kudurru MŠ (Meli-Šipak) 2:
soll Ninkarrak, die […], seinen Samen wegraffen

paulus 2014: 386.
Der einzige Hinweis darauf, dass von den Hunden der Ninkarrak eine Gefahr
ausgeht, ist die vorhin zitierte neuassyrische Beschwörung gegen Lamaštu.14
Das heißt, wir müssen im Hinblick auf die neuassyrischen und luwischen Text-
passagen annehmen, dass die Hunde als Begleiter der Nikara(wa) nicht
dieselbe Funktion hatten wie jene der mesopotamischen Heilgöttinnen, mit
denen Nikara(wa) in Babylonien gleichgesetzt wurde. Das heißt aber auch,
dass Nikarawa ursprünglich auch gar keine Heilgöttin gewesen sein muss.
8.2 Ein Tempel für Nikara(wa) in Karkamiš?

Abschließend möchte ich noch auf ein Ergebnis der Ausgrabungen der letzten
Jahre in Karkamiš eingehen: 2012 wurde im Tempel B (dem sog. Hilani-
Gebäude) eine Bronzestatuette eines Hundes gefunden; in seiner Publikation
dieser Figurine erwähnt Nicolò Marchetti auch die Inschrift von KARKAMIŠ
A 6 §31 und wiederholt die Gleichsetzung Gelbs mit der „Sumerian Ninkarrak,
one of the many avatars of the great Mesopotamian healing goddess Gula,
whose acolyte animal was the dog“ (Marchetti 2014: 317). Datiert wird diese
Hundefigur durch den Vergleich mit anderen Figurinen in assyrischen und ba-
bylonischen Tempeln von Heilgöttinnen in die Eisenzeit ii. Der Tempel B ist
fast doppelt so groß wie der Tempel des Wettergottes. Der Autor stellt zwar
fest, dass die Fundlage es bis jetzt nicht erlaubt, die in diesem Tempel verehrte
Gottheit zu bestimmen, aber im Zusammenhang mit der Erwähnung der
14 In diesem Zusammenhang sei noch auf 1 Kön 21,23 und 2 Kön 9,36 verwiesen, wo berich-
tet wird, dass Isebels Leichnam von Hunden gefressen wurde. Nicht diese Tatsache allein
macht den Vergleich mit dem Fluch aus Karkamiš möglich, sondern der Hinweis darauf,
dass es auf Gottes Geheiß, verkündet durch den Propheten Elija geschieht, und worin
offensichtlich eine besonders schwere Strafe für Isebels Untaten zu sehen ist.

528 Hutter-Braunsar
„Hunde der Nikarawa“ ist die Annahme verlockend, es könne sich dabei um
einen Tempel der Nikarawa handeln, zumal ein anderes Bauwerk bereits als
Tempel der Kubaba identifiziert wurde. Es ist natürlich nicht auszuschließen,
dass das Vorhandensein einer Hundefigurine einen Hinweis auf die in diesem
Tempel verehrte Gottheit liefern kann (Marchetti 2014: 315–317).
Aber die Heilgöttinnen waren nicht die einzigen, die in Vorderasien mit
Hunden in Zusammenhang standen. Auf diese Thematik kann ich hier nicht
ausführlich eingehen, nur als Denkanstoß möchte ich darauf hinweisen, dass
die Göttin Ningal im hurritischen Bereich ebenfalls mit Hunden assoziiert war.
Das geht aus dem Ritual CTH 494 (Ritual für die Mondgöttin Ningal) hervor,
das von Nikalmati, der Gattin Tudhaliyas I., in Hattusa eingeführt wurde. In
dessen Verlauf werden den Hunden (und den Ferkeln) der Göttin Speise- und
Trankopfer dargebracht:15
(§31) n=ašta UZUÚR-aš kuedaš UZUÌ ḫuišu kuran n=at LÚAZU dāi NIN-
DA.Ì.E.DÉ.A=ia memal 1 NINDAḫarašpāuwantann=a arḫa paršāizzi namma
LÚ
AZU ANA NINDA.MÁ ēšḫani menaḫḫanda išḫuwāi n=at ANA Dirpe=
na Dkūzinkarra DNIN.GAL=we=na dāi
(§31) „Und das rohe Fett, das von den Gliedern abgeschnitten ist, nimmt
der AZU-Priester. 1 Fettkuchen (aus) Gerstenbrei (und) Grütze und ein
ḫarašpawant-Brot zerbröselt er völlig. Der AZU-Priester schüttet ferner
(dies) in das Schiffbrot, (das mit) dem Blut (gefüllt ist,) und stellt es den
Hunden und ‘Ferkeln’ der DNingal hin.“
(§41) EGIR-an=ma LÚAZU IŠTU GAL PĀNĪ GIŠBANŠUR tagān D[irp]e=

na Dkūzinkarra DNIN.GAL=we=n[a š]ipanti MUNUS.LUGAL=ma UL
šipant[i]
(§41) „Danach libiert der AZU-Priester aus einem Becher vor dem Tisch
zu Boden den [Hun]den und ‘Ferkeln’ der DNingal. Die Königin libier[t]
nicht.“
Dies mag als Warnung davor dienen, mit der namentlichen Gleichsetzung und
der Assoziation mit Hunden auch auf die Funktionsgleichheit von Nikara(wa)
und Ninkarrak zu schließen. Nikara(wa) aus KARKAMIŠ A 6 mit als bedroh-
lich empfundenen Hunden passt allein zum neuassyrischen Beleg. Aus Baby-
lon sind keine Texte dieser Art bekannt. Auch in den Fluchformeln ist es nur
Ninkarrak selbst, die die Strafe ausführt. Der §31 der Inschrift KARKAMIŠ A 6
15 KUB 45.47 + Rs. iii 16‘–19‘, iv 22–24; D. Bawanypeck and S. Görke (ed.), hethiter.net/: CTH
494 (TX 19.02.2016, TRde 19.02.2016), §31‘ und §41‘; vgl. Haas 1994: 376.

ist bislang mit dem zitierten neuassyrischen Text der einzige Hinweis auf das
Wesen der obermesopotamischen Göttin, die—vielleicht, weil sie von Anfang
an mit Hunden assoziiert war—in Babylon mit Gula/Nin-Isina in Verbindung
gebracht wurde.
Als Ergebnis dieser Studie ist festzuhalten, dass die in KARKAMIŠ A 6 §31
belegte Gottheit trotz der mit ihr assoziierten Hunde nichts mit der mesopota-
mischen Göttin Ninkarrak zu tun hat, sondern es sich dabei um eine syrische
Gottheit handelt.
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Innsbruck, 243–260.
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385–398.

Chapter 29
From Nerik to Emar

Patrick M. Michel
Abstract
At the end of the 14th century, Aštata and Emar entered the Hittite sphere of influence.
From the Hittite point of view, gods had to be worshipped in a Hittite manner (KUB v
6, col. iii 1.3–7), so after the annexation of Aštata, one wonders about the relation be
tween Anatolia and the Syrian cities under Hittite control.
In this paper, we would like to broaden our understanding of the practice of Hittite
rituals at Emar in the Late Bronze Age on the basis of letters and ritual texts. We would
especially like to emphasise the occurrence in the Emar texts of the gods Daḫagu and
Daḫagunanu, personifications of the daḫanga native to Nerik. Furthermore, the burn
ing of offerings attested with the Hurrian word ambašši (Akkadian ambaššu) appears
in Emar as well as in Zippalanda during the same period.
On a historical note, it was the Swiss Assyriologist Alfred Boissier who brought back
to Geneva cuneiform tablets from his journey in Cappadocia at the end of the 19th
century. As these tablets contained Hittite texts, he was able to read them only thanks
to the work of Hrozný. Boissier’s archive in Geneva attests to the impact of Hrozný’s
work on Ancient Near Eastern studies as a whole.
Keywords
Emar – Hittite – Nerik – daḫanga – ḫurtiyalla – ḫuwaši – Alfred Boissier
1 Introduction1
This paper discusses the religious situation in Emar after the Hittite conquest.
At the end of the fourteenth century bce, Aštata and Emar entered the Hittite
sphere of influence. King Tudḫaliya iv undertook an important reorganisa
tion of the cults (Hazenbos 2003) in the thirteenth century, replacing standing
1 With a historical note about the Swiss Assyriologist Alfred Boissier, on the occasion of the
hundredth anniversary of Hrozny’s decipherment of the Hittite language.

532 Michel
stones by theriomorphic images, symbols or anthropomorphic images.

Standing stones were, however, still present in many places, as seen in rituals
described in the Cult Inventories.2
While matters of Hittite administration in Emar have already been dis
cussed,3 the religious situation has been little studied.4 D. Prechel posed the
question of Anatolian rituals at Emar,5 and the question has been studied by
the author of this paper since 2013.6 The aim of the present paper is to look es
pecially at some specific elements of the Emar cult which originated in Nerik.
The occurrence of Anatolian cult practices in thirteenth-century Emar
seems to indicate that Hittite divinities and Hittite cults were present.7 Emar
471 reads:
1 ṭup-pu pár-ṣi ša DINGIR MEŠ KUR Ḫa-at-ti

2 URU MEŠ AN.TA ù KI.TA an-nu-um-ma
Tablet of ritual for the gods of Hatti, upper towns and lower towns, it is
so…
This text indicates that Hittite divinities were worshipped in Emar, and thus
that there was no special area in town reserved for Hittite people or members
of the army.8 “Upper” and “lower” perhaps mean North and South, indicating
that Emar was part of the cities (in the South) where Hittite deities were wor
shipped. These texts were written in Akkadian, which indicates that they con
cern the priests of the town.9 Furthermore, an Akkadian letter (Emar 271 = Msk
7471) found in the so-called House of the Diviner (M1) shows how local people
from Emar worshipped Hittite deities with offerings of beer.10 Emar 261 could
also be added to the letters dealing with offerings to Hittite deities.11 The latter
was written by the diviner Kapi-Dagan and asks for oil, possibly for the deities
of Hatti.12
2 See also Cammarosano 2018.

3 See for example Yamada 2006.
4 On the pantheon of Emar, see Beckmann 2002.
5 Prechel 2008. See also Cohen 2011.
6 Michel 2013: 187–196; 2014a: 508–516; 2014b.
7 See also Cohen 2011: 146.
8 Michel 2014b: 249. As these texts are written in Akkadian, they concerned the Semitic
population of the city and not the Hittite garrison.
9 Michel 2018.
10 Arnaud 1980: 252 n. 31. The author noted that this letter shows that the gods of Hatti were
truly fed as members of the pantheon; see also Cohen 2011: 149 and Michel 2014b: 249.
11 See also Cohen 2011: 147.
12 See Michel 2014b: 254.

From Nerik to Emar 533
The involvement of Hittite officials in local cults was also underlined by Co
hen (2011: 153):
Hittite officials were deeply involved in the cult of the city and its satel
lites. They installed through their representatives personnel to manage
the cult resources, some of which were specifically designated for the
gods of Hatti.
As we can see, Hittite deities were fed in Emar and were part of the pantheon.
The young boy mentioned in the letter 271, a local inhabitant, shows us how
divinities of Hatti were worshipped in Emar. This suggests that Anatolian
rituals were translated from Hittite into Akkadian for local purposes.13
For Archi however, under Mursili ii at least, “[n]ot only was there no super
imposition of foreign cults on the local cults, but Mursili considered introduc
ing the rites of Aštata of the goddess Išḫara to Hattusa” (Archi 2014: 158). She
adds: “It is, therefore, remarkable that Hittite dominion at Emar, despite adapt
ing to Hurrian tradition, nonetheless did not end up superimposing Hurrian
cults over the local ones, where Hurrian elements are only infrequent” (Archi
2014: 159). Our point of view is different, namely that Hurro-Hittite practices
were introduced in Emar as part of the general programme of cult reorganisa
tion undertaken by Tudḫaliya, and that Hittite gods became integrated into the
local cults.
From the Hittite point of view, gods had to be worshipped in a Hittite way.14
In Emar, Hittite deities such as IŠKUR piḫaimmi15 ‘full of light’ (also in Msk
74176), ḫabaimmi, and putalim(m)i; Ḫantašepa (Emar 471, 19, Emar 472, 36’,
Emar 474, 5); IŠKUR nerikki (Emar 472, 32); Mt. Ḫarḫarwa (Emar 472, 44’) and
Mt. Zaliyanu16 (ḪUR.SAGda-li-ia-nu, Emar 472, 44’), both important in the cult of
the storm god of Nerik; Daḫagu and Daḫagunanu, personifications of daḫanga
known from the cult of the storm god of Nerik,17 are attested in Anatolian
13 The same conclusion is to be found in Cohen (2011: 150): “because the sources demon
strate a concern with the management of the Hittite cult, the ‘Anatolian’ rituals detailing
the parṣu of Ḫatti must be considered not as mere academic exercises but rather as in
structions for actual procedures.”
14 See KUB 5.6 iii 3–7.
15 On piḫaimmi see Schwemer 2008: 22 and n. 57; see also Chicago Hittite Dictionary P 253,
piḫaimmi. For occurences in Emar, see also Beckman 2002: 44.
16 In KUB 36.90, the storm god of Nerik is said to come from Mt. Zaliyanu among others, see
Whitney Green 2003: 142.
17 IŠKUR of Nerik was the son of UTU.MI2 of Arinna (Allen 2015: 76 n. 58). This specific oc
currence clearly links the cults of Emar with the Hittite Anatolia of Hattušili iii and his
son Tudḫaliya iv.

534 Michel
r ituals and all have to be worshipped in the Hittite way. This could explain why
a SANGA priest has been sent to Aštata according to KUB 5.6 i 38’–43’.18 The
first column inquires about the manner in which certain festivals are to be
celebrated. They ask this because of the illness of the Hittite King:
In regard to the sins against the deity which were established, they have
been re-addressed. When they go to the SANGA-priest, as they them
selves lead the SANGA-priest to Astata, (and) once they come (over
there), they will set in order the rituals of the deity.
Column I informs us that a SANGA priest is to be taken to Aštata. Emar was

one of the most important towns of the land of Aštata. This text thus states
that a Hittite priest is being sent there to make oracular enquiries and to per
haps organise the cult of a deity. Thus, during the New Kingdom period,
Hattuša appointed priests to officiate in different areas of the Empire, of which
Aštata is an example. As Taggar-Cohen (2006: 226–227) wrote:
SANGA-priests were part of a centralized administrative system (…)

Moreover, we see the involvement of the king in appointing cult func
tionaries to key areas or towns throughout the kingdom. Such are the
cases of appointments in Kizzuwatna, Aštata and Halab.
The Great Diviner Zu-Ba‛la of house M1 in Emar, a very important person at

that time, led religious matters in Emar together with his sons. They were in
volved in the most important celebrations of the town: the Zukrum and the
installations of priestesses. D. Prechel stresses the role of this family, asking if
they were following instructions for the Hittite cults in Emar just as the Bel
Madgalti had to.19 The diviners could have had a duty linked to the Hittite Em
pire, being responsible for the cult of Hittite deities as well.
2 Nerik and Emar
As mentioned above, Mount Ḫarḫarwa and Mount Zaliyanu (Emar 472, 44’),
both important in the cult of the storm god of Nerik,20 appear in the Anatolian
18 This oracular inquiry was presented by van den Hout (1998: 13–22) and Taggar-Cohen
(2006: 223–224).
19 Prechel 2008.
20 Nerik was an important center for the cult of the local storm-god, son of Wurušemu/Sun-
goddess of Arinna and the storm-god of Heaven, and the brother of the storm-god of
Zippalanda. The local storm-god was associated with the Mountain Zaliyanu, responsible

Rituals of Emar.21 The daḫanga22 is not attested as such in Emar, but a deified
personification of it is created and integrated into the local pantheon of Emar.
We can thus observe that the cult of the storm god of Nerik, as well as his
mountains and the personifications of the daḫanga, were worshipped in Emar.
How can we explain such occurrences in Late Bronze Age Emar?
S. Lamante, in her contribution to the 8th Congress of Hittitology, took up
the matter of daḫanga again under the title “Das daḫanga: seine Struktur und
kultische Bedeutung.” We will not discuss here all the occurrences of the word,
but would like to examine the context in which it appears in Emar. It is attested
in Emar text 472, called “rituel anatolien” by Daniel Arnaud. The text is written
in Akkadian and was correctly interpreted by Lamante as a text that “shows the
attempt of Hittite kingdom (…) to apply a stable political control over the
whole empire.”23 Indeed, the installation of such a cult in Emar under
Hittite control could only be explained as a wish or rather a need of Hittite
imperial policy.
If we look closer at the ritual text 472, we see that offerings of meat, bread
and beer are attested for the storm god of Nerik (32: a-na dIŠKUR Ni-ri-ik-ki),
and bread and KAŠ GEŠTIN are given to Daḫagu and Daḫagunanu, making
clear the introduction of the Nerik cult in the city of Emar during the reign of
Hatttušili iii24 and his son. The typology of offerings, as burnt, in this Emar
text is typically Hurrian. In Hittite Anatolia, during the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM SAR festi
val (CTH 594) for example, ambašši appears with keldi on the 25th day, wor
shipping the Hurrian goddess Šawoška25 of Ḫattarina. During the festival for
the storm god of Nerik (CTH 672)26 as well, offerings are burnt in am-ba-aš-ši
form.
KUB 56.48 (CTH 672) Vs. ii

5 [(nu)] ˹I-NA˺ NA4da-ḫa-an-ga am-ši-in ḫar-pa-an-zi
6 [UZU?]šu-up-pa ar-ḫa wa-ar-nu-wa-an-zi
“They put the ambaššu-offering in the daḫanga. The meat they burn
completely.”
for the rain necessary for agriculture. The city is a Hattic foundation. If the city was de
stroyed under Hantili, it became a great religious center again under Hattušili iii. On
Nerik, see Haas 1970: 5–14, Sürenhagen 1981: 107–108 and Whitney Green 2003: 141–147.
21 See also Haas 1994: 601 (“Eingang in der Kult von Emar”).
22 Dahanga is usually considered to be a building or a specific area of the Temple of the
storm god in Nerik. See Lamante 2014 and also Cammarosano 2018: 335 (“sacred building
in Nerik”).
23 Quote in translation.
24 The importance of Nerik for Hatttušili iii is underlined in his Apology (iii 46’–48’).
25 For an etymology, see Wegner 1995: 120.
26 On CTH 672, see Součková 2010: 279–300 and Lamante 2014: 438.

536 Michel
am-ba-aš-ši offerings (burning of birds) are also attested in Emar texts: Emar
475 (1’, 3’, 5’), Emar 486 (3’) and Emar 463 (20’). Very interesting, then, is the fact
that this Hurrian practice is attested during the New Kingdom outside a Hur
rian context and outside Kizzuwatna, i.e. in Nerik, in Emar and in Zippalanda.
Zippalanda KUB 20.96 iv 15:

am-ba-aš-ši a-ra-aḫ-za-an-da KAŠ.GEŠTIN š[i-pa-an-ti
“They make a libation all around the ambašši with wine-beer.”
An ambaššu with liquids is attested in Emar in an Anatolian ritual.
Emar 471, 30–33:

DUG ḫu-ur-ti-ia-lu KAŠ GEŠTIN.MEŠ
DUG ḫu-ur-ti-ia-lu KAŠ ŠE.MEŠ
a-na am-ba-aš-ši ú-šar-ra-pu
“A vase ḫurtialu of wine, a vase ḫurtialu of barley beer, they burn for the
ambašši.”
The ḫurtialu vase, used for this specific rite, deserves a short commentary.
(dug) ḫurtiyalla-27 occurs virtually only in the Old Hittite “Ritual for the Royal
Couple”.28 Otten lists only one other broken occurrence in KUB 34.99, which
now has a duplicate KUB 45.55, where there is more context (evocatio).29 Here
the context is Hurrian,30 which would confirm what we have in Emar. This ex
tremely rare word is clearly associated with the early “Hattic layer” of the Hit
tite state cult, even if it reappears later in rituals for Hurrian deities.
These examples show that the same practices are attested at the same time
in ritual texts from Emar and from Hittite Anatolia, i.e. Nerik and Zippalanda.
Hurrian cults could have been practiced long before Tudḫaliya iv, but the insti
tutionalisation and the standardisation of those practices are to be attributed
to Hatttušili iii and his son Tudḫaliya iv, who revitalised Hurrian cults and the
Hattic layer of Hittite religion all over the Empire at the same time. It also
27 I thank Craig Melchert for the information provided and for the fruitful discussion with
him on this topic. According to Melchert, Otten was likely right to follow Friedrich in de
riving the word as an -iya- stem from ḫu(wa)rti- ‘decoction, mixture’.
28 See Otten and Soucek 1969: 96.
29 One will notice that the passage cited by Otten for ḫurtalli- is also from an Old Hittite
ritual text.
30 The index to KUB 45 attributes it to the ḫišuwa festival. See also Tremouille 2000: 131.

means that Emar was part of the reorganisation carried out by this king, where
the storm god of Nerik is now clearly attested. These occurrences place the
Emar cults in a coherent group, together with the cult of Nerik, with old Hattic
layers reactivated in later Hurrian contexts.
3 dahanga and NA4ḫuwaši-
Turning back to the word daḫanga, we know that it is very probably of Hattic
origin, but its exact meaning remains unclear. Lamante concludes that it is “a
structure separated from the temple (of the storm god in Nerik), perhaps lo
cated on a hill, and that is only attested in Nerik.” The word daḫanga is not at
tested in Emar, but a deified personification is created and integrated into the
local pantheon of Emar.31
In several respects, Hattic dahanga recalls the Hittite ḫuwaši.32 When we
compare daḫanga and ḫuwaši, we notice that both words:
– could be written with the determinative NA4 as well as GIŠ,
– appear with expressions like anda pai- ‘to enter’.
The fact that both terms are possibly determined as being of stone or wood
could be significant, even if it does not necessarily mean that the two objects
are similar to each other. The following examples show first how the determi
native can change for daḫanga. Second, the translation seems to indicate that
NA
4 concerns an object, whereas GIŠ would imply a place.33
Bo 2710 = KUB 58.11 Vs. 5 (CTH 678):

pa-aš-šu-ú-i še-er ti-an-zi I-NA GIŠda-ḫa-an-ki-ma-at-kán an-da na-a-wí
pa-a-an-zi
“To the stone paššu-34 they go up, but they do not yet enter the (wooden)
daḫanga.”
31 Beside Divine T/Daḫagu, the spelling of Daḫagunanu remains unclear. It could be that
the local scribe misunderstood the original name Daḫangauili or Daḫangaili, or simply
that he interpreted it differently. For the pantheon of Emar see also Beckmann 2002,
which however does not mention this deity in the list.
32 Band iii/2 of the Hethitisches Wörterbuch (2012: 833–834) gives a very complete catalogue
of data concerning the word ḫuwaši, without however distinguishing the stela from the
holy standing stone.
33 In CTH 383 as well (Hymn to the Sun Goddess of Arinna), daḫanga is said to be “a place of
mercy”. See § 9’ (iii 26”–iv 25’) in Singer 2002: 100.
34 See Zuntz 1936–1937: 542; Haas 1970: 218; Michel 2014b: 181.

538 Michel
Bo 3481 i 8–10 (CTH 672):35

nu INA NA4daḫanga am-šin ḫarpanzi šuppa arḫa warnuwanzi am-šin-ma
IŠTU É.GAL-LIM kin ueter nu-kan apedani šer warnuškandu
“On the daḫanga stone the assemble the ambašši; they burn off clean
meat, but what ambašši they brought from the Palace, upon it let them
do their burning.”
We cannot fully understand the meaning of the word dahanga from these ex
amples, but a comparison with occurrences of ḫuwaši may be of some help.
The possibility to literally “enter” both dahanga and ḫuwaši invites a closer
look. The formulation daḫanki=mat=kan anda panzi could be understood if we
compare it with INA NA4ḫuwašiya anda paizzi.
There is indeed an ambiguity in the word ḫuwaši as well, both for a cultic
object and for a sanctuary (Ort von Opfern,36 Stelen-Areal). In the 3rd tablet of
the KI.LAM festival text, one can read that the NA4ḫuwaši (standing stone) of
the Storm-god is situated in a built area that has a hearth (KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52
[= mskr. B], obv. ii 20) and a wooden door (ibid. obv. ii 22) and is surrounded by
walls (ibid. obv. ii 21 and KUB 58.48 [= mskr. F], obv. iii 12); see van den Hout
1991–1992: 110–111). For this reason, van den Hout interpreted the ḫuwaši as a
structure which it was possible to enter.37 In fact, the text does not say ‘in the
ḫuwaši’ but rather in front of it: KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52 [= mskr. B], obv. ii 7–8
NA
4ḫu-u-wa-ši-ia (-)x pi-ra-an, also attested in lines 10 and 16; and KUB 58.48
[= mskr. F], obv. iii 10 NA4ḫu-wa-ši-ia pi-ra-an. However, the KI.LAM festival text
CTH 627 (KUB 2, 3: 32–33) gives another formulation, saying that one could
literally enter into the NA4ḫuwaši: LUGAL-uššan DU-aš na4ḫuwašiya anda paizzi.
The same expression is also attested in CTH 636.2 (KUB 20.99 ii 4).
What does anda paizzi, with dative-locative of NA4ḫuwaši, mean? In the KI.
LAM, the dative-locative of NA4ḫuwaši is attested either with piran or anda.38
The key is to be found in the text CTH 636.3 (KUB 20.99 ii 4) NA4ḫuwašiya peran
anda paizzi, which should be translated “go inside/enter in front of/in the pres
ence of the standing stone.” From this passage, it seems clear that the stone
stands in a built area, which the king enters. Indeed, the text continues with
the king kneeling in front of the holy stone. This means that one enters the
35 See HED: 49 s.v. ambašši-.

36 On zikkanzipaš attested in KUB 58.33 Vs. iii 20, and cited by HW2 iii/2: 831, see Michel
2014b: 179.
37 van den Hout 1991–1992: 109ff.
38 For a complete list of uses of the dative-locative of NA4ḫuwaši, see HW2 iii/2: 835–836,
and with all the prepositions 837.

place where the stone stands and that, by metonymy, the scribe would some
times have written to ‘enter’ both dahanga and ḫuwaši.
The above analysis leads to the conclusion that daḫanga would be the Hat
tic lexeme equivalent to Hittite ḫuwaši. daḫanga could thus be considered a
standing stone, rather than a structure or a building.
4 Conclusion
We have presented evidence above of Hurrian cultic practices during the thir
teenth century in Emar. It should be stressed that Hittite and Hurrian ritual
practices are attested at Emar in texts which are not classified as “Anatolian
ritual”, and that are not even written in the Syro-Hittite form, but using the so-
called Syrian hand (composed earlier?). The Emar text 446, which is not an
“Anatolian ritual” but a ritual local text for six months, shows Hittite and Hur
rian features as well, indicating that local cults were modified by the reorgan
isation of the Hittite king. In this text, the practice of burning birds, which is
distinctly Hurrian, is attested as well as that of “filling cups”. All these elements
show how Emar, as part of the Hittite Empire, took part in the reorganisation
programme of King Tudḫaliya iv.
We have also examined how both daḫanga- and (dug) ḫurtiyalla- show up
in the Emar texts in a Hurrian context. In both cases, the later Hittites extend
ed the old cultic usage to the newer Hurrian-based ones.39 Finally, we proposed
that daḫanga could be the Hattic equivalent of Hittite ḫuwaši, arguing that a
metonymic process could have pushed scribes to formulate the possibility to
enter the very object (daḫanga/ ḫuwaši) instead of clearly writing that one en
ters [the place of] the cultic object.
In closing, we can learn much from Emar as part of the Hittite Empire. The
Hittite king renewed old traditions, as is visible from the reoccurrence of
words associated with the Hattic layer of the Hittite state cult in rites for Hur
rian deities. The expression of a revitalisation ordered for political stability by
the Hittite king explains why and how we find Hittite-Hurrian features in the
Emar rituals, not only in the “Anatolian” rituals, but also in local cults like the
“rituals for six months” text (Emar 446). That is the reason why in Emar, now
part of the Hittite Empire, deities originating in far-off Nerik came to be wor
shipped in the standard Hurro-Hittite way, with burnt offerings being but one
example.
39 Warm thanks to H.C. Melchert for the discussion and personnal communication.

540 Michel
5 Historical Note: Alfred Boissier (1867–1945) and Bedřich Hrozný

(1879–1952)
On a historical note, I would like to add some words about the Swiss Assyriolo
gist Alfred Boissier, who brought back to Geneva cuneiform tablets from his
journey in Cappadocia at the end of the 19th century. As these tablets con
tained Hittite texts, he was able to read them only thanks to the work of Bedřich
Hrozný. Boissier’s archive in Geneva attests to the impact of Hrozný’s work on
Ancient Near Eastern studies as a whole.
In 1893–1894, Boissier travelled with the French savant Ernest Chantre on an
exploratory archaeological expedition in Asia Minor. The journey was pub
lished in a small volume called En Cappadoce, notes de voyage (1895). During
their journey in 1893, Chantre and Boissier discovered two Phrygian texts in
Euyrek, near Boghazköy, and brought back cuneiform tablets. The two Phry
gian texts were alphabetical texts written on blocks whcih were being reused
in different houses of the village. In 1894, they obtained the agreement of the
Ottoman authorities to send the stones to the museum in Constantinople. The
same year, in the summer, one can read in his notebook a description of
Boghazköy:40
The village of Boghaz-Koï is located on the site of these famous ruins. Im
mense rocks, imposing walls, and on coming out of one of the narrow
defiles that they dominate one reaches an open space. Immense strong
holds provided by the limestone rocks and little modified by man are girt
by thick walls that are found virtually intact today…. But no inscription,
no sculpture except for two roughly hewn lions is there to throw light on
the obscure origins of the history of these ruins…. It is absolutely impos
sible to say exactly who it was who inhabited this eagle’s nest.
In 1911, Boissier also published the Nouveaux documents de Boghaz Köi (Babylo-
niaca iv, and v in 1912). However, before his death, he stopped his A
ssyriological
40 Description retranscribed for a lecture to the Société de Géographie on the Chantre mis
sion to Cappadocia, 8 March 1895, Lausanne (Ms. Fr. 6792/1. bge. Genève.): “Le village de
Boghaz-Koï situé sur l’emplacement de ces ruines fameuses. D’immenses rochers, ses mu
railles formidables, et au sortir d’un de ces défilés étroits qu’ils dominent, on atteint un
espace ouvert. D’immenses citadelles fournies par les rochers de calcaire et que l’homme
n’a pas beaucoup modifiés sont ceints de murailles épaisses que l’on retrouve comme
intactes aujourd’hui. (…) Mais aucune inscription, aucune sculpture si ce n’est 2 lions à
peine dégrossis ne viennent jeter une lueur sur les origines obscures de l’histoire de ces
ruines. (…). Il est absolument impossible de dire exactement quels sont ceux qui hab
itaient ce nid d’aigle.”

work and donated his collection of cuneiform tablets to the Museum of Art
and History of Geneva in 1938.
As mentioned above, Boissier also returned with Hittite cuneiform tablets,
but at that time the Hittite language was not yet known. Chantre then worked
with Saussure to decipher the alphabetical Phrygian texts, whereas the cunei
form texts still resisted interpretation. Among the tablets Boissier brought
back to Geneva is mah 16862 (fhg 2) of CTH 334.2.1 (Mythos des Verschwin-
dens von Ḫannaḫanna), published by E. Laroche in RA 45. In a lecture given in
Lausanne on the Hittites in January-February 1932,41 he explains how he came
into possession of the tablet:
Mr. Ernest Chantre of Lyon and I, during a mission to Cappadocia in 1894,

on the flanks of the principal citadel, collected fragments of tablets cov
ered with cuneiform signs. This was a valuable indication to show that
Boghaz-Koï (that is the name of the place, near the town of Yozgat) was a
historical center of the first order.42
By the time Hrozný deciphered Hittite in 1915, Saussure had already died. From
1915 to 1935, Boissier was able to work on Hittite texts, thanks to the work of
Hrozný, as we can see in the Boissier Archive in Geneva. In the same lecture
dating back to 1932, Boissier wrote:
Hittite was “an unknown language, which since the work of the Czech
Hrozný is today classed as an inflected…Indo-Germanic…language. After
Egyptology and Assyriology, in less than twenty years a new science has
been created, Hittitology. This word spoken by the Czech scholar Bedric
Hrozný means the study of the Hittite people…. Hrozný observed that
Hittite had an Indo-European grammatical structure…. Here is the mean
ing of the first Hittite phrase discovered by Hrozný: “You eat bread and
you drink water.” What confirmed the deductions of Hrozný were the dip
lomatic documents of the royal archives of Boghaz-Koï, composed in the
Semitic [language] Akkadian, which had been translated into the Hittite
language.”43
41 Ms. Fr. 6795/1. bge. Genève.

42 “M. Ernest Chantre de Lyon et moi-même, lors d’une mission en Cappadoce en 1894 ra
massèrent aux flancs de la citadelle principale des fragments de tablettes recouverts de
signes cunéiformes. C’était un indice précieux qui désignait Boghaz-Koï, c’est le nom de
l’endroit, près de la ville de Yozgat, comme un centre historique de premier ordre.”
43 “…une langue inconnue et qui depuis les travaux du tchèque Hrozný est aujourd’hui clas
sée comme une langue à flexions…indo-germanique…. Après l’Egyptologie, l’Assyriologie,
il s’est créé en moins d’une vingtaine d’années une science nouvelle, l’Hittitologie. Par ce

542 Michel
Finally, he also refers several times in his writings to Hrozný’s Über die Völker
und Sprachen des alten Chatti-Landes. Hethitische Könige (Leipzig: Heinrichs,
1920). After several years working on Hittite and Akkadian texts, Boissier was
finally able to publish his major work Mantique babylonienne et hittite in 1935
in Paris.
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[Lettere ed Arti XCVI], 477–546.

Chapter 30
The Last Foothold of Arzawa: The Location

of Puranda and Mount Arinnanda Revisited
Rostislav Oreshko
Abstract
This paper reexamines the problem of the localization of one of the most significant
episodes of the Arzawan campaigns of Muršili II, which took place around 1318–1317
bc and revolved around Mount Arinnanda and the city of Puranda. Instead of the
traditional localization of Arinnanda and Puranda in the vicinity of Abaša/Ephesus, it
is argued that the events are to be set in the Knidian peninsula (southwestern Caria).
This is supported both by the localization in southern Caria of Attarimma, Ḫuršanašša
and Šuruda, the three cities from which the refugees of the episode originate (Oreshko
2019), and by the identification of Puranda with Πύρινδος, a locality associated in sev-
eral Greek inscriptions with Knidos.
Keywords
Arzawa – Puranda – Attarimma – Knidos – western Anatolia – Late Bronze Age Caria
The events of Muršili ii’s Arzawan campaigns, involving the flight of the peo-
ple of Attarimma, Ḫuršanašša and Šuruda to Mount Arinnanda and the for-
tress Puranda, the siege of both by the Hittites, the subsequent coming to
Puranda of the Arzawan prince Tabala-Zunauli, and finally the seizure and
plunder of the fortress and deportation of the captives to Hatti, dramatically
marks the last days of the west Anatolian polity Arzawa, the most powerful ri-
val of the Hittites in Anatolia around the mid-14th century bc.1 Judging from
1 I am greatly indebted to Craig Melchert for improving the language and style of the article
and for a number of useful comments. Needless to say, the responsibility for all remaining
faults lies entirely with me alone.

The Last Foothold of Arzawa 545
Hittite accounts, Arzawa was unable to recover from the triple disaster—mili-
tary defeat, subsequent massive deportation of the region’s population and the
death of the old and sick king Uḫḫa-zidi—and ceased to exist, giving place to
several independent states under the Hittite protectorate. The description of
the episode in Muršili’s Annals, dated to the second half of the third and at the
beginning of his fourth year of reign (i.e. ca. 1318–1317 bc), represents one of
the lengthiest and most detailed accounts of a particular military campaign in
the extant Hittite annalistic literature. Unfortunately, the value of this section
of the text as historical source is drastically reduced by the fact that not a single
geographical name figuring in it could be pinpointed hitherto with any cer-
tainty. Based on the fact that the episode immediately follows the capture of
Abaša, the capital of Arzawa, plausibly identified with Ephesus, one common-
ly looked for Mount Arinnanda and Puranda in the neighbouring region. How-
ever, although here can be found a natural feature fairly well corresponding to
the description of Arinnanda (cf. below), one was hitherto unable to discover
any correspondences in the later toponymy of the region for any of the four
city names connected with the episode. Moreover, one cannot say that this lo-
calization particularly aptly explains all the details of the episode presenting a
vivid and convincing picture of the flight. On the other hand, seen in a wider
perspective, the localization of the episode in Ionia proves to be not free of dif-
ficulties: at least one of the defeated cities, Attarimma, should be sought, as
implied by the evidence of other texts, rather on the southwest Anatolian
coast, in or not far away from Lycia (cf. below). However, the logic of the
“Puranda episode” clearly requires a relatively close position of all the localities
mentioned. It thus makes sense to review the episode, looking for alternative
possibilities of localization which would take account both of its topographi-
cal descriptions and, crucially, of its toponomastic evidence.
The course of events of the “Puranda episode” may be recapitulated as fol-
lows (Goetze 1933: 53–67, cf. Beckman et al. 2011: 16–24, 34–41).2 The people of
Šuruda, Ḫuršanašša and Attarimma—who are lumped together in the Ten-
Year Annals as “all the land of Arzawa”—fled from the Hittite authority, split-
ting up into three parties. One took refuge on the heights of Mount Arinnanda;
another went to the city of Puranda, which one should probably imagine as a
sort of mountain fortress, judging from the emphatic indication ‘above’ (šēr) or
2 The ‘flight’ of the people of Šuruda, Ḫuršanašša and Attarimma is for the first time men-
tioned earlier in the text of the Ten-Year Annals (§12´, KBo 16.1+ ΙΙ 29–41), the respective
section of the Comprehensive Annals being lost in the gap (§§6´–7´). The actual description
of the campaign begins in §18´ of the Ten-Year Annals (KBo 3.4 obv. ii 33) and §8´ of the
Comprehensive Annals (KUB 14.15+ iii 27´)).

546 Oreshko
‘upwards’ (šarā) and their opposite ‘down(wards)’ (katta(n)) in connection

with it;3 the third joined the Arzawan king Uḫḫa-zidi in his flight ‘across the
sea’. It is noteworthy that with respect to the first group which headed to Mount
Arinnanda the simple verb pai- ‘go’ is used; in contrast, with respect to the
second group going to Puranda the verb parā pai- ‘go over/beyond/further’ is
used. A literal interpretation of the verb in the context of the passage implies
that Puranda was located in the same direction as Arinnanda, but somewhat
further. Muršili first came to Mount Arinnanda and blocked the party hiding
there. The description of this mountain is peculiar, being probably the most
detailed portrayal of a landscape feature in Hittite literature. It is said that the
mountain is ‘very arduous’ (mekki nakkiš), ‘protruding into the sea’ (aruni par-
randa panz(a)), ‘steep and thickly wooded’ (parkuš warḫuiš⸗a); furthermore, it
is ‘rocky’ (pērunanz(a)) and inaccessible to chariotry (IŠTU ANŠE.KUR.RA MEŠ
šarā pennumanzi ŪL kišat, lit. ‘it was impossible to ascend it with chariotry’).
This sort of landscape provides excellent opportunities for leading guerrilla
war against a regular army, which was obviously the reason why the fugitives
had chosen the place. However, a significant disadvantage of Mount Arinnan-
da was, as the text implies, the lack of water sources, which made it impossible
to withstand long sieges. Suffering from hunger and thirst, the fugitives soon
yielded to the Hittite king. Muršili claims that he alone took 15,500 persons,
which he dispatched to Hattusa; the number of men taken by Hittite officers
and soldiers was ‘countless’ (kappuwawar NU.GÁL). After that Muršili
3 Cf. the Ten-Year Annals §20´ (KBo 3.4 ii 54–56 with dupl.): nu⸗kan kur URUArzawa kuit
ḫūman … ˹INA URU˺ Puranda šarā pān ēšta nu[⸗kan ITap]ala˹zu˺nawališ INA URUPuranda šarā
pait ‘since all the land of Arzawa had gone up into Puranda, Tabala-zanawali went up to
Puranda (as well)’; §21´ (KBo 3.4 ii 57 with dupl.): … ITapal[azunaw]ališ URUPuran˹da˺za katta
u˹it˺ ‘… Tabala-zanawal … came down from Puranda’; §22´ (KBo 3.4 ii 67–68 with dupl.):
[ITapalazun]auliš kuiš … INA URUPuranda šer ēšta … n⸗aš⸗kan URUPurandaza GE6-az katta
ḫuwaiš ‘Tabala-Zunauli who … was up in Puranda, … he fled by night down from Puranda’ and
further in the text (KBo 3.4 ii 73 with dupl.) [DAM-SÚ-y]a-wa-za DUMUMEŠ-ŠU NAM.RAMEŠ-ya
… kattan pēḫutet ‘his wife, his children and populace … he led down’. Moreover, in the context
of Tabala-Zunauli’s flight a special term šarāmnaz is used (KBo 3.4 ii 69, 73 with dupl.). Its
translation in Beckman, Bryce and Cline 2011: 20–22 as ‘together with their provisions’ is most
probably false, being based on the confusing treatment of the word in CHD Š/2 (s.v.
NINDAšarāman, esp. b 2´c´ for the passage), where it is lumped together with NINDAšarāman
‘bread provisions/allotments’. However, semantically šarāmnaz hardly has anything to do
with ‘bread’ (cf. Heinhold-Krahmer 2008: 118–119). Instead, both this context and a number of
others strongly suggest that it is a derivative of šarā ‘up’ (for literature s. CHD, ibid.). The
analysis of the word by Oettinger as abl.sg. of the noun šarām(m)an- lit. ‘upper part’ appears
to be the most plausible. In the present context, it refers either to the ‘acropolis (fortified hill)’
or simply to the ‘top, summit (of the hill)’. In any case, the usage of a special term clearly
shows that Puranda was impressively high.

roceeded to Puranda and, arriving in a city whose name is lost in the gap
p
(KUB 14.16 iii 25´), sent to the people of Puranda a message in which he re-
ferred to some agreement between his father (i.e. Šuppiluliuma I) and Uḫḫa-
zidi, according to which the people of Puranda, who earlier were Hittite
subjects, have been ‘given into submission’ (ARAD-annipai-) to the Arzawan
king. Muršili tried to represent this agreement as void for the reason that Uḫḫa-
zidi later turned against the Hittite king and joined the king of Ahhiyawa,
claiming that now the people of Puranda are, as the fugitives of the three
towns, Hittite subjects. However, the request to surrender was refused. In view
of the approaching winter, Muršili had to give up the idea of besieging Puranda
immediately and turned back to the Aštarpa River—identified as Akar Çay/
inland Kayster in southwestern Phrygia (cf. Hawkins 1998: 21 with n. 118.)—set
up winter quarters there and celebrated the Year Festival.
Meanwhile, Uḫḫa-zidi, who had been ailing already for some time, died ‘in
the middle of the sea’. Of his two sons who had fled with him, one (Piyama-
K(u)rundiya) stayed ‘across the sea’, while the other one, Tabala-Zunauli, turned
back to the Anatolian coast, joining the people at Puranda. When spring came,
Muršili undertook a second attempt to subjugate the city. Tabala-Zunauli at-
tacked the Hittites on their approach in a pitched battle outside Puranda, but
was defeated and had to retreat to the fortress, which the Hittites subsequently
encircled. Remarkably, water resources again played a crucial role: Muršili
managed somehow to cut off (arḫa da-, lit. ‘take away’) water from Puranda.
This caused Tabala-Zunauli to make an attempt to slip away by night with his
wife, children and a small retinue. However, after a pursuit, all except Tabala-
Zunauli himself were caught ‘on the road’. Apparently losing their morale after
the escape of Tabala-Zunauli, the remaining defenders of Puranda were unable
to resist the Hittites for long and the fortress fell.4 As in the previous year,
4 There is every reason to think that it is precisely this conquest of Puranda which gave rise to
the name Puranda-muwa (‘Puranda-power’), son of Mittana-muwa, who was a Chief Scribe
in the reign of Muwattalli (for the person see now van den Hout 2016). It is noteworthy that
other names of the structure toponym-muwa (cf. Laroche 1966: 322) contain either 1) land/
ethnic names and might reflect the fait accompli of the conquest (quite probably the case
with Mittana-muwa) or aspirations to power over them (cf. Kaška-muwa or Mizra-muwa) or
2) the names of major centres (cf. Ḫattuša-muwa and Ḫalba-muwa; Ḫarana-muwa can be
interpreted most probably as ‘Eagle-power’ and is not connected with the north Mesopota-
mian Harran) and mean rather ‘power/glory of’. Puranda-muwa belongs to neither category
and seems to be a ‘special name’ associated with a particular event. If this consideration is
right, then one can fix the date of birth of Puranda-muwa quite exactly in 1317 bc or, at the
latest, 1316 bc, when the memory of the glorious victory—signifying the final conquest of
Arzawa—was still vivid. This date squares well with other details known about Puranda-
muwa: at the time of the transfer of the capital from Hattusa to Tarhudassa (probably ca.

548 Oreshko
Muršili took more than 15,000 captives, with the respective ‘countless’ share of
booty going to the Hittite nobles and soldiers. After this, there follows a badly
broken part of the text (§25´ of the Ten-Year Annals) which touches, as far as
one can judge, on the dealings of the other exiled son of Uḫḫa-zidi, Piyama-
K(u)rundiya, with the king of Aḫḫiyawa, after which the text proceeds to the
new episode which concerns Manaba-Tarḫunda and the Šeḫa River land.
Although the “Puranda episode” is relatively rich in detail, it contains little
factual evidence which could be used hitherto to pinpoint its locus in quo with
certainty. Of the four cities mentioned, one, Puranda, is attested only here and
the other three appear in a handful of texts (s. below), none of which suggests
right away a close association with a certain region within western Anatolia
excluding all other possibilities. For this reason, the general localization of the
“Puranda episode” has been based solely on the internal evidence of Muršili’s
Annals, which seemed to be, at first glance, more reliable. In the text of the An-
nals, the episode follows the paragraph describing the seizure of Abaša with-
out any clear indications of a setting switch, such as, for example, the motion
verbs (parā) pai- ‘go (forth)’, uwa- ‘come’ or ar- ‘arrive’, frequently found else-
where in the text at the beginning of new paragraphs.5 This circumstance,
combined with the fact that both the preceding text and the “Puranda episode”
deal with the Arzawa people, seems to suggest that the episode took place not
far from Abaša. Given the identification of Abaša with classical Ephesus
(Ἔφεσος, cf. the Lydian form of the name *Ipsi-) proposed by Garstang and
Gurney (1959) and now almost universally accepted, Arinnanda and Puranda
were generally looked for in Ionia.6 This interpretation of the narrative line of
the text seems to find support in the fact that the description of Mount Arin-
nanda agrees rather well with the physical features of the mountainous ridge
of Mycale (modern Dilek or Samsun Dağı) lying some 30 km to the southwest
of Ephesus. Reaching an average altitude of around 1200 meters, the ridge is ca.
1285–1280) and his taking over the position of the Chief Scribe he should have been in his
early/middle thirties. The fixing of the date of birth of Puranda-muwa sheds some sidelight
on the life of his father Mittana-muwa: as the eldest son (which follows from the fact that he
succeeded his father), he should have been born when Mittana-muwa was 20–25 years old,
which fixes the date of birth of the latter between 1342 and 1337 bc, which, again, agrees well
with the meaning of his name.
5 In fact, the initial sentences of the paragraph featuring as subject the people of Šuruda,
Ḫuršanašša and Attarimma tell us simply nothing about whether the Hittites stayed in the
neighbourhood of Abaša to hunt them, or moved to a different region.
6 Garstang and Gurney 1959: 83–88; cf. Hawkins 1998: 22, 25 and the authors cited in the follow-
ing footnotes. It is noteworthy that earlier localizations of Arinnanda and Puranda (in Cilicia
Pedias by E. Forrer and Lycia by some authors, s. refs. in rgtc 6/1 and 6/2: s.vv. Apaša, Ari-
nanta, Puranta) also proceeded from the location of both close to Abaša.

Map 30.1 The region of Ephesus and Miletus (Abaša and Milawanda) in the LBA apud Herda
2009: 47
30 km long and only ca. 6 km wide. At present, somewhat more than a third of
the ridge juts out into the sea. However, in antiquity the delta of the Meander
was situated much further inland, so that practically the entire ridge repre-
sented a narrow and high promontory (cf. map 30.1), which recalls the descrip-
tion of Mount Arinnanda as “protruding into the sea, steep and thickly
wooded.”7
7 The identification of Arinnanda with Mykale has only relatively recently come into the dis-
cussion of the localization of the “Puranda episode” as an additional argument: cf. Starke
1997: 451; Easton et al. 2002: 97–98; Herda 2009: esp. 62, 65–66; Lebrun 2013: 12–13.

550 Oreshko
As the episode clearly suggests that the second place of refuge, Puranda, was
located not far from Arinnanda,8 one had to assume that the fortress was also
situated somewhere in Ionia. The implicit difficulty of such a localization—
the impossibility of finding any comparable name in the later toponymy of the
region, which does not seem so insignificant if one takes into consideration
the rather high number of well-established LBA-EIA correspondences for this
particular part of western Anatolia (cf. map 30.1)9—could be evaded under the
assumption that Puranda was utterly destroyed by Muršili and for some reason
never reinhabited, so that the very name of the site sank into oblivion. It would
be strange, but not impossible.
Be that as it may, the conviction in the correctness of this line of interpreta-
tion was so strong that in 1999 R. Meriç, having started excavations on the forti-
fied Bronze Age site Bademgediği Tepe near Metropolis some 50 km to the
north of Abaša-Ephesus, immediately proposed to identify it with Puranda.10
The proposal, despite its purely speculative character, has been met with ap-
proval by some scholars.11 Although in the absence of any written evidence
from and about the site it would be futile to try to prove or disprove the hy-
pothesis by direct argumentation, one should note that even that meagre evi-
dence which the Annals of Muršili contain on Puranda agrees rather poorly
with the topographical conditions at Bademgediği Tepe. The hill on which the
settlement is located is quite small and well-defined, with the length of the
fortification wall comprising only about 750 meters.12 Leaving aside the ques-
tion of whether it was indeed a sensible enterprise for 15,000 men to seek ref-
uge in such a small fortress, one should note that one could densely encircle
the settlement even with a modest military contingent. It is difficult to imagine
how Tabala-Zunauli could escape, even if by night, the fortress located on
Bademgediği Tepe with an entire group of arguably not very trained people
and cover some distance before being overtaken by the Hittites. Such a trick
8 Thus contra Garstang and Gurney (1959: 86–88), who seem to be the only authors to as-
sume some significant distance between Arinnanda and Puranda, identifying the first
with some promontory between Miletus and Smyrna, but looking for Puranda further
inland in the vast region to the west of Aštarpa/inland Cayster.
9 For a critical review of the correspondences see Oreshko 2019: 166–179, dismissing the
match Waliwanda-Alabanda (instead Polybotos/Bolvadın to the west of the Eber Gölü),
Karkiša-Karia (instead Gergis/Gergithes in the upland Troad) and shifting Mudamudašša
(sic) from Mylasa to Medmasos in the central part of the Halicarnassus peninsula. It is
noteworthy that the equation Pariyana-Priene remains unverifiable.
10 Meriç 2007 (based on a conference talk held in 1999), cf. Meriç and Mountjoy 2002 and
Meriç 2003.
11 Hawkins 2006–2008 and Lebrun 2013: 13–14.
12 Meriç 2007: 29.

requires a more complex topographical situation than available for Badem

gediği Tepe, which could somehow prevent the fortress being encircled from
all sides. A second inconsistency is that Bademgediği Tepe is located in the
opposite direction from Abaša-Ephesus as compared with Mykale (and rather
far from the latter), while the text seems to imply that Puranda was located
‘beyond’ (parā) Arinnanda. It remains unclear how the people fleeing from the
Hittite grip from the same three cities happened to be in such different places
as Mykale and Bademgediği Tepe.
Taking an unbiased look at the evidence presented above, one cannot help
stating that the localization of the “Puranda episode” in the general vicinity of
Ephesus based on an allegedly straightforward reading of the text of the
Annals is rather senseless, even if not quite impossible. It explains almost
nothing: it simply ignores the question of the location of the three cities from
which the refugees originate and, even with the help of the highly speculative
identification of Puranda with Bademgediği Tepe, fails to present a coherent
picture of the events. Beside the position in the text after the destruction of
Abaša, the only point on which the whole construction hinges is a certain cor-
respondence in the description of Arinnanda and the topographical condi-
tions at Mykale. However, this significance should not be taken too far: Mykale
is certainly not the only promontory in western or southwestern Anatolia
which is “protruding into the sea, steep and [at least, was!] thickly wooded.”
Under the circumstances, there is good reason to try a different approach: to
assume a geographical setting switch at the beginning of §18´, even if it is not
explicitly (enough) indicated, and to try to localize the episode using external
textual evidence.
As already noted, texts mentioning any of the cities figuring in the episode
are not especially abundant. Puranda is not found in any other text. The names
of Šuruda, Ḫuršanašša and Attarimma reappear as a cluster of lands (kur
uru) in the “Indictment of Madduwatta” (KUB 14.1+ rev. 30 (§24´), Goetze 1928:
26–27), in a context which does not specify their general west Anatolian loca-
tion any further. The attestations of Šuruda are restricted to these two texts.
The name Ḫu(wa)ršanašša/i- is attested separately in two other texts (rgtc
6/1: s.v.).13 The extremely interesting but badly broken Middle Hittite letter
13 To these attestations, two further dubious cases may be added. On the one hand, it has
been suggested in CHD Š/2: 241 (sub NINDAšarāman b 2´) to restore […-š]a-na-aš-ša in
KBo 19.53 iii(?) 5´ (for the text see now del Monte 2009: 163) as […URUḪur-š]a-na-aš-ša.
The possibility is tempting, as it would help to fix the events concerning Mount Tiwadašša
and the Arzawan chiefs Anzapaḫaddu, Zaballi and Alandalli with great precision (cf. be-
low). Still, it is not even entirely certain whether we have to do here with a toponym (al-
though the context favours this interpretation; for šarammanaz as ‘from acropolis’ cf.
above, n. 3). On the other hand, M. Forlanini (2012: 137) tentatively assumed another

552 Oreshko
KBo 18.86 (Hagenbuchner 1989, ii: 216–218, cf. Gander 2010: 78–79) mentions
Ḫuwaršanašši in the context of what seems to be a “sheep raid” together
with the cities T(a)lawa and Annaššara; the former may be identified as Tlos
in Lycia, which might speak rather for a southwest Anatolian location of
Ḫu(wa)ršanašša/i-. A city Ḫuršannašši mentioned in KBo 10.20 iii 43, 45
(Güterbock 1997: 91–98) as the home of a local variety of the Storm-God most
probably has nothing to do with the west Anatolian Ḫu(wa)ršanašša/i-, but is
a locality in the Hittite heartland, possibly not far from Zippalanda.14 Lastly,
Attarimma is attested separately in three further cuneiform texts.15 Besides the
attestation in the “Tawagalawa letter” (KUB 14.3), which will be crucial for the
question of its location (s. below), it is attested in KBo 50.209 and in a recently
discovered text from Ortaköy (Or. 90/1299). The fragment KBo 50.209 (Groddek
2008: 140, cf. Gander 2010: 106–107) mentions Attarimma (l. 8´) in a paragraph
which also features Walk(u)wanda (l. 7´), about which nothing is known, and
Ḫubišna (l. 9´), which may be identified as Kybistra in Lycaonia. Judging from
the fact the previous paragraph mentions Turmitta located in northern Ana-
tolia and Mount Šakduna, which is all probability identical with the Mount
Šakdunuwa associated with the Kaška tribes (i.e. again with the northern-
most parts of Anatolia), the fragment appears to be either a concise list of
campaigns of a Hittite king in different directions or a collection of military
attestation of the name in KUB 21.6+ (Annals of Hattusili iii), restoring the broken name
in col. ii 4 as KUR URUḪur-aš[-na-aš-ša/i] instead of the earlier proposal of Gurney KUR
URUḪar-ḫa[š?-šu-wa-an-ta]. However, the second damaged sign can be neither AŠ nor
TAR/ḪAŠ. On the photos (hethiter.net/: PhotArch N08987 and hethiter.net/: PhotArch
BoFN00397b) one can clearly see a horizontal wedge in the lower part of the line (not in
the middle, as is represented on the drawing in KUB). In the upper part of the line there
can be seen one further horizontal wedge (with a broken head). Between these there
might be a further wedge (either a horizontal wedge put aslant or a Winkelhaken), but it
may be also an accidental scratch. After these two (or three) wedges there seems to be the
head of a (horizontal?) wedge (which might belong to the following sign). The traces
leave open a number of possible readings of the sign, none of which leads, however, to a
sensible identification of the name.
14 The city is most probably identical with Ḫurranašši (with assimilation -rš-> -rr-), appear-
ing just several lines below in the text (iv 9 (broken) and 12, cf. Güterbock 1997: 95) as a
site where festive rituals were performed. Zippalanda is mentioned as the next station of
the festive procession two lines further down.
15 In addition, there is a possible HLuw. attestation of the name in SÜDBURG, §7. As have
been argued in Oreshko 2016: 262–276, the city name rendered in Hawkins 1995 as i(a)-
*503(URBS) may be reanalysed as i(a)-*430+TA(WA)+RA/I, which, given the logographic
reading of *430 as tarima-/tanima- (cf. also Oreshko 2013: 377–378), would give the pho-
netic reading of the name as I(a)tarima (for the character of the first vowel in the name
cf. below). The context of SÜDBURG (rebuilding of the city) brings nothing new about its
location.

itineraries. The Middle Hittite letter from Ortaköy Or. 90/1299 (partly pub-
lished in Süel 2014: 935–936) mentions in a paragraph (ll. 21–24) a ‘ruler’ (LÚ)
of Attarimma, brother of a certain Laḫḫa,16 who flees ‘from the presence’ (IŠTU
MAḪAR) of Tarḫunnaradu, who can be identified as the king of Arzawa, to
Ḫatti. The name of the city in l. 22 through which (abl. -az) the fugitive escapes
to Ḫatti is read by the editor as URU?Wa-ar?-la?-u-wa-an-da. In fact, there is ev-
ery reason to suspect that the reading is not quite correct and the name should
be read either as URUWa-˹al ˺-˹li ˺-wa-an-da or, less likely, URUWa-˹al ˺-˹ku˺-wa-an-
da.17 In any case, the context of the paragraph only confirms the general asso-
ciation of Attarimma with Arzawa, as was already clear from the Annals of
Muršili.
16 From the context it is quite clear that LÚ URUAttarimma—who may be tentatively identi-
fied with Zalma-K(u)rundiya (Zalma-DLAMMA-ya) mentioned together with Laḫḫa in
Or. 90/1600+, l. 77´ (for all the Ortaköy texts referred here, see Süel 2014)—means not just
a ‘man of Attarimma’, but the ‘ruler of Attarimma’: nu⸗wa⸗šši KUR-e peran kāš maniyaḫḫiškit
(!) can be interpreted as ‘to him (scil. Lahha) he (scil. LÚ URUAttarimma) earlier handed
over the country’ (instead of the inexact ‘he will rule the land in his name’ [Süel 2014: 935];
the form maniyaḫḫiški given there is apparently a mistake). It is noteworthy that LÚ quite
probably has the same technical meaning ‘(petty) ruler, chief, leader’ (going back to Su-
merian usage) as it also has in other Middle Hittite letters from the Ortaköy archive, cf. LÚ
URUMarāša in Or. 93/20, l. 6; [I-]lišani LÚ URUPedašša in Or. 93/20, l. 13; LÚ URUAḫḫiya[…]
Or. 90/1600+, l. 64´, LÚ URUŠāra in Or. 90/431+, l. 8, who is also called LÚ peranḫuyattalla
‘military commander’. In fact, the same may also be true for other Middle Hittite texts:
e.g., the contexts in which IMazlawa LÚ URUK(u)waliya or LÚ URUPikkaya are mentioned
in the “Indictment of Madduwatta” (KUB 14.1+ rev. 28 and rev. 89 respectively) leave little
doubt that both are not ordinary ‘men’. The same concerns Attar(iš)šiya LÚ URUAḫḫiyā,
who figures prominently in the same text: given the military power he is able to assemble
in western Anatolia, there is every reason to see in him not a sort of Mycenaean condot-
tiero, as frequently assumed, but the ‘ruler of Ahhiya(wa)’, whatever exactly stands behind
this appellation (cf. translation in Beckman, Bryce and Cline 2011: 71, 81).
17 The photo of the reverse of Or. 90/1299 given in fig. 3 (not ‘Fig. 5, 6’!) in Süel 2014 is ridicu-
lously small and does not give much possibility to verify the reading. However, the identi-
fication of the sign U before the second WA is very dubious, as the Winkelhaken, if it is
one, appears to be too small to be this sign (cf. U in line 19 of the text); rather, it is either a
part of the previous sign or an accidental damage. The damaged space between the first
and second WA seems to comprise only two rather large signs. The available space would
better agree with the restoration URUWa-˹al ˺-˹li ˺-wa-an-da, and this restoration would
make perfect sense, since Waliwanda, which may be identified with Polybotos close to
Eber Gölü (mod. Bolvadın), was indeed a natural staging post between western Anatolia
and Hatti (see Oreshko 2019: 169–171). On the other hand, restoration of URUWa-˹al ˺-˹ku˺-
wa-an-da is suggested by the context of 50.209, which features Attarimma and Walku-
wanda in two successive lines (cf. above). The location of Walkuwanda is, however,
unknown, and the visible traces do not agree well with a restoration of the sign as KU.

554 Oreshko
The “Tawagalawa letter”, as noted, contains different, more specific and po-
tentially crucial evidence about the location of Attarimma and, by extension,
of the other two cities mentioned with and clearly situated not too far from it,
Šuruda and Ḫu(wa)ršanašša. The text of the letter (KUB 14.3, e.g. Hoffner 2009:
296–313) begins with the statement that Attarimma has recently been attacked
and destroyed. Significantly, the news about the destruction of the city is
brought to the Hittite king by the Lukka people. This fact may be interpreted
with a high degree of probability as an indication that the Lukka people had
some interest in the region in which Attarimma was located. Accepting that
the core region of the Lukka people corresponded to classical Lycia (or at least
its western part centred on the Xanthus valley), one may expect to find At-
tarimma somewhere on the southwest Anatolian coast, in or not far from Ly-
cia. It is noteworthy that this inference is in a way supported by the evidence of
the letter KBo 18.86, featuring some dealings of Ḫuršanašša with T(a)lawa/Tlos
(cf. above).
Most of the proposals concerning the location of Attarimma concentrated
entirely on this association of Attarimma with Lukka/Lycia implied by the
opening lines of the “Tawagalawa letter”, taking little or no notice of the fact
that in the Annals of Muršili the city is explicitly associated with Arzawa (cf.
above).18 O. Carruba (1964: 286–289) and H. Eichner (1983: 65–66, cf. now
2016)19 have even seen in Attarimma the Lycian city par excellence, proposing
to associate its name with the self-designation of the Lycians, Trm̃ mile/i
(Τερμίλοι). More specifically, one has proposed to identify Attarimma with Ter-
messos (Τερμησσός), a Pisidian city located on the border with Lycia (Börker-
Klähn 1994), or with Tel(e)messos (Τελμησσός/Τελεμησσός, modern Fethiye) in
southwestern Lycia (Hawkins 1998: 26). While the former proposal has attract-
ed little attention, the latter identification, proposed in the framework of the
otherwise rather convincing reconstruction of the historical geography of
western Anatolia, has been received more enthusiastically.20 And yet a more
detailed examination of the evidence of the “Tawagalawa letter”, on which the
arguments for the identification of Attarimma with Tel(e)messos are in part
based, show that it is quite problematic; the same evidence suggests, however,
an alternative possibility. Here I will briefly summarize the arguments already
presented in more detail elsewhere (Oreshko 2019: 171–175).
18 For older refs. s. rgtc 6/1 and 6/2: s.v. Atarima (only J. Freu [1980: 306–318, esp. 316–317]
tried to connect Attarimma with Caria), and further Börker-Klähn 1994, Hawkins 1998: 26,
Gander 2010: 106–108 and 199–200 (with some further refs.), Kryszeń 2012: 570.
19 I express my thanks to Heiner Eichner, who kindly put the article at my disposal before its
publication.
20 Cf. the literature cited in Gander 2010: 199 n. 746.

The “Tawagalawa letter” puts Attarimma in fact in a more complex and a

more tangible geographical network than simply associating it with the Lukka
people. The report about the destruction of Attarimma brought to the Hittite
king by the Lukka people triggered a punitive campaign—directed, as far as
one can judge, primarily against Piyamaradu, who was probably to blame for
the destruction—which is described in the subsequent lines of the letter (KUB
14.3 i 5–52). One may reasonably assume that either Attarimma itself or, at
least, the general region in which it was located was the final goal of the cam-
paign. The itinerary of the campaign includes: (1) Šallaba, a usual point on the
way to western Anatolia, located most probably somewhere on the road be-
tween Gordion and Amorion; (2) Waliwanda, which may be identified with
Polybotos/Bolvadın just to the west of Eber Gölü; (3) Yalanda, identified with
Alinda in the Marsyas (Çine Çayı) valley; (4) Adriya, identified as Idrias further
south from Alinda and (5) the fragmentarily preserved city name Ama[…]
(rather than Aba[…]). After this, in a broken context, Millawanda-Miletus is
mentioned. The crucial identifications (Yalanda-Adriya-Millawanda), pro-
posed already by B. Hrozný (1929) and accepted both by Garstang and Gurney
(1959) and by Hawkins (1998), associate the main events touched upon in the
initial part of the letter—seizure of Alinda, destruction of all the fortresses of
the land and the march towards Millawanda—with southwestern Anatolia.
Hawkins (1998: 26) assumed that after the subjugation of the land of Yalanda,
the Hittites proceeded further to the south and then to the southeast in the
direction of Lycia using the “Carian highway”. However, there are three difficul-
ties with this assumption. First, neither in this part nor further in the letter
does one find any mention of the Lukka people, which one would expect if the
campaign somehow affected Lycia. Secondly and more importantly, going
from Central Anatolia to Tel(e)messos through Caria means a huge detour of
about 200 km. If one were heading to Tel(e)messos from Central Anatolia, one
should not enter Caria at all, but turn south either in the region of Kelainai/
Apamea (modern Dinar) or Laodicea (modern Denizli). Finally, the phonetic
side of the equation is extremely problematic, as has already been pointed out
by some scholars (e.g. Taracha 2001: 417 n. 1 or Eichner 2016: 62 n. 25). The
Lycian form of the name is Telebehi and, combining it with the Greek form,
one can reconstruct the preform as *Telebassa/*Talabassa. Given the devel-
opment of the voiceless labiovelar to its dental counterpart in Lycian, the
name K(u)walabašša attested in Hittite texts represents a perfect match of
Telebehi, as has been pointed out long ago by Carruba (refs. in Melchert 2004:
s.v. Telebehi-, cf. further Schürr 2014: 748–749). In contrast, the name of At-
tarimma demonstrates four (!) phonetic discrepancies with the reconstructed
form of Tel(e)messos. Especially problematic is the presence of the suffix

556 Oreshko
*-ssa/i- in the later form Tel(e)messos/Telebehi. In sum, the identification of

Attarimma with Tel(e)messos looks extremely unlikely.
One can propose, however, an alternative identification. If one looks at the
route taken by the Hittite king in Caria—first to Yalanda/Alinda and then to
Adriya/Idrias—one may reasonably assume that he might be heading to
southern Caria. From the region of Adriya, two directions are open, one lead-
ing southwest to the Halicarnassus peninsula and one leading south to the Car-
ian Chersonesos. It is just in the second direction where one finds a name
which bears a clear phonetic similarity with Attarimma: Loryma (Λώρυμα),
located on the southernmost tip of the Carian Chersonesos. There are several
phonetic discrepancies, but they can all be naturally explained. First, aphaere-
sis of an unstressed vowel in a four-syllable word appears to be quite natural,
and was actually assumed earlier for all previous identifications of Attarimma
(cf. above).21 Second, the correspondence of geminated -tt- with the initial
lambda of the Greek form can be explained as reflecting the peculiarly Carian
pronunciation of dentals and/or liquids. The interchange of forms containing
-ll- and -ld- is a well-known phenomenon in Greek renderings of some Carian
names (cf. Adiego 2007: 248–249). In all likelihood, it is just this sound that was
rendered with a special Carian letter (transliterated as <λ>), different from
both <d> and <l>. It is not excluded that we are dealing with a phenomenon
similar to the merger of dentals, liquids and trills in the eastern Luwian dia-
lects into a flap-like sound (for the phenomenon, see Rieken and Yakubovich
2010: esp. 216–17).22 Lastly, the second a in Attarimma was long, as implied by
the plene writing of the syllable in KBo 14.16 iii 31 (At-ta-a-ri-im-ma), and,
quite probably, accented; the development of ā > ō under accent represents a
familiar phenomenon in Carian (cf. Adiego 2007: 258).
What is, however, especially important about this identification is that it
leads to the possibility of proposing identifications for the whole cluster of
names associated with Attarimma, both in the Annals of Muršili and the “In-
dictment of Madduwatta”. Ḫuršanašša can be identified with Greek Chersone-
sos (Χερσόνησος), a possibility which has in fact been proposed long ago by
Hrozný (1929: 327) and accepted at some point by Garstang (1943: 42), but
21 Cf. also the possible rendering of the name in HLuw. as i(a)-*430+TA(WA)+RA/I (s. above,
n. 15), which may phonetically reflect something like /ǝtárima/.
22 The phenomenon of variation between (voiced) dental and lateral is also attested for
Pamphylian, seen both in epigraphic material and in glosses (Brixhe 1976: 43–44 and
Brixhe 2013: 182 and, for glosses, Valério 2015: 332 n. 6), and can also be assumed for Lycian
on the basis of the rendering of PN Dapara as Λαπαρας in Greek (for the case s. now
Valério 2015: 340–341). Of certain relevance is also the old question of the relationship
between tabarna and labarna, for which see now the detailed discussion in Valério 2015.

f inally rejected in his book with Gurney (1959: 81 n. 6). In fact, there are reasons
to think that Chersonesos, which is for the first time mentioned in the Athe-
nian tribute lists in the 5th century bc, referred originally not to some “penin-
sula”, but to a concrete city located somewhere in the southernmost part of
Caria; in other words, the name is a Greek reinterpretation of the original Car-
ian toponym.23 The name of the second city, Šuruda, may be identified with
Syrna (Σύρνα), located somewhat to the northeast of Loryma. The form Syrna
may be interpreted as a contracted form of Šuruda, with the further develop-
ment of the cluster -rn- to -rd-. As a parallel to the development of a dental to
a nasal, one can point to the case of Kaunos (Καῦνος), whose local name is kbid,
which might go back to something like *kābida/i-, possibly meaning ‘river-
valley’ (Schürr 2003). Last but not least, even the partly broken name men-
tioned in the Tawagalawa letter several lines after Yalanda and Adriya (cf.
above) and beginning with the sequence Ama- may be integrated into this
reconstruction and identified with Amos (Ἄμος), located ca. 8 km to the north-
east of Syrna.
As a result, the three unruly cities which tried to escape from the Hittite
grip at the beginning of Muršili’s reign can all be located not far from each
other in a confined area of Carian Chersonesos. It is noteworthy that this loca-
tion of Attarimma on the frontier between the Mediterranean and the Aegean
perfectly explains the association of the city both with the Lukka people and
with Arzawa. The identification of Ḫuršanašša with Chersonesos also proves
to be sensible in the context of KBo 18.86, which implies some interaction
with T(a)lawa/Tlos (cf. above).24 Turning to the question of the location of
23 It is noteworthy that this toponym is quite probably attested in Lycian as krzzãnase on the
Xanthos stele (44a, 53, cf. Melchert 2004: s.v. with further refs.). The presence of this word
in this form in Lycian agrees better, as it seems, with its interpretation as an indigenous
Anatolian name than as a Greek borrowing. First, it seems somewhat strange that the Ly-
cians had no name of their own for a place in this nearby region, doubtless thoroughly
familiar to them, and should use a Greek word for it. Second, χερσόνησος, if borrowed from
Greek, should appear in Lycian, strictly speaking, not as krzzãnase, but rather as *krzzu-
nase, as Greek o (also in accented position) was regularly rendered as Lycian u (cf.
Tẽnegure/Tẽnagure = Ἀθηναγόρας, Pulenjda = Ἀππολλωνίδης or Sttule = Στόλος or Στολίς, cf.
Melchert 2004, s.v.v.).
24 Curiously, there existed a deme named Tlos in the southern part of the Carian Chersone-
sos near Mount Phoinix (Fraser and Bean 1954: 58). One wonders if the name of the
deme preserves the memory of the ancient involvement of the people from the Lycian
Tlos in this region. As for the Annaššara mentioned in the letter, it is quite probably
identical with the Inaššara mentioned in two further texts (KUB 21.6a rev. 9´ and KBo
28.25 9´ (partly broken), as was suggested by Forlanini (2005: 112 n. 6); for the oscillation
between initial a- and i-, cf. Cun. Attarimma vs. HLuw. i(a)-*430+TA(WA)+RA/I and see
above, n. 21. The first text (Annals of Ḫattušili iii, Gurney 1997: 130–131) associates
Inaššara in general with localities in southwestern Anatolia and the Lukka lands; note

558 Oreshko
two places chosen by the runaways as hiding places, Arinnanda and Puranda,
one should state that, if the reconstruction proposed above is accepted, the
connection of both with the region of Abaša/Ephesus and Ionia should now be
once and for all abandoned. It is quite clear that Arinnanda and Puranda
should be the nearest strongholds which the people of Attarimma, Ḫuršanašša
and Šuruda might deem to be secure enough to protect them from the Hittites.
The distance between these two clusters of toponyms should be not more than
a one- or two-day march, i.e. probably about 60–80 kilometres. To flee from the
Carian Chersonesos to Mykale, situated some 250 km away (if one takes the
modern road), moving towards the Hittite army approaching from Abaša,
would clearly be an absurdity.
However, the general region in which the rebellious cities were located pres-
ents a ready candidate for identification with Arinnanda: the Knidian (modern
Datça or Reşadiye) peninsula located just to southwest of the Carian Cher-
sonesos. The topographical conditions of the peninsula correspond to the de-
scription of Arinnanda in the text of the Annals even more strikingly than
those at Mykale: the long (ca. 63 km) and narrow peninsula presents, for the
most part (excluding its middle portion), rugged, bare and difficult terrain
(cf. Bean and Cook 1952: 171). Moreover, the isthmus which connects the pen-
insula with the mainland is only about 2 km broad, offering a view of both the
Ceramic (modern Gökova) Gulf to the north and the Bybassius (modern
Hisarönü) Gulf to the south, conveying a vivid impression of its ‘protrusion into
the sea’ (such a view is not actually the case at Mykale). Especially the eastern
mountainous massive of the peninsula is virtually deprived of significant wa-
ter sources and even now almost uninhabited, which is strikingly reminiscent
of the problems experienced by the group encircled by the Hittites at Mount
especially the appearance of K(u)walabašša in the next line (10´) which, as noted above,
can be identified with Telebehi/Tel(e)messos. This association wholly conforms to the
context of KBo 18.86. The fragmentary KBo 28.25 9´ (Edel 1994, I: 84–85; the extensive
restorations proposed there, as well as the very attribution of the text to the correspon-
dence between Ramses ii and Ḫattušili iii, are doubtful) mentions beside Inaš[ara] the
land Danuna (7´ belonging to the preceding paragraph), which quite probably represents
the term for Greece and the Greeks corresponding to Δαναοί (known in Egypt and the
Levant, as contrasted to Aḫḫiyawa used in Anatolia; see Oreshko 2018). Given these as-
sociations, one wonders if Annaššara/Inaššara cannot be the name of the island the
Greeks called Νίσυρος, located several kilometres to the southwest of Knidos peninsula
and visible from there. The development Annaššara/Inaššara > Νίσυρος exactly corre-
sponds to the case Attarimma > Λώρυμα. Note also that the name of the small island lying
between Nisyros and Rhodes was Telos (Τῆλος), which is reminiscent of T(a)lawa/Tlos.
The mention of this small island in the Hittite texts would be quite surprising, but still
not entirely unique: the Hittites knew Lesbos under the name Lazba and Cyprus under
the name Alašiya.

Arinnanda. Mount A rinnanda referred then either to the whole peninsula or,
more probably, to its eastern part (cf. below).25
If the assumption that the refugees from the region of the Carian Chersone-
sos went west to the Knidos Peninsula is right, then one should look for Puran-
da, which, according to the text lay ‘beyond’ (parā) Mount Arinnanda, on the
same peninsula, somewhat further west. In fact, the name which almost ex-
actly corresponds to Puranda is attested in a later Greek literary source and has
long been known. It is Pyrindos (Πύρινδος) found as an entry in the geographi-
cal dictionary (Ἐθνικά) of Stephan of Byzantium (e.g., Billerbeck and Neu-
mann-Hartman 2016: 110–111). Unfortunately, Stephen reports only that it is a
πόλις Καρίας, giving no further details on its location.26 However, epigraphical
finds not only confirm the existence of such a city in Caria, but also allow one
to localize it quite precisely. A small fragment bearing the name of Pyrindos
(gen. Πυρινδου and several letters in the second line) has been found at Tekir,
the site of New (Hellenistic) Knidos (for the distinction between Old and New
Knidos s. below), and published as early as the 19th century (see now nr. 255 in
25 This identification disproves the interpretation of the name Arinnanda as ‘rich in water
sources’ time and again found in the literature (e.g., Herda 2009: 62 n. 180 [with further
refs.] or Lebrun 2013: 12), despite the clear statement of the Annals that the people encir-
cled on the mountain surrendered under the pressure of hunger and thirst. In fact, the
postulation of the Hittite (or Indo-European Anatolian) word arinna- ‘source’ solely on
the basis of the spelling of the city name Arinna as URUPÚ-na (cf. HEG i: s.v. arinna-
/arna-) is an extremely precarious procedure. This spelling, as well as URUKÙ.BABBAR(-
ša-) for Ḫattuša, might well reflect the Hattian etymology of the names, as both toponyms
seem to be of pre-Hittite origin (cf. HED i: 182 with further refs.). The localization of Arin-
nanda in the eastern part of the Knidian peninsula suggests several possibilities of inter-
pretation of the name. First, the name could mean something like ‘arid, droughty, bare,
barren’ or the like. This, however, offers no obvious possibility of connection with an Ana-
tolian lexeme. The second possibility is suggested by one of the epithets applied to it in
the Annals, ‘protruding into the sea’ (aruni parranda panz(a)). The stem *arinna- may be
connected with aruna- ‘sea’, i.e. the name interpreted as ‘Sea-Mountains’. The etymology
of the word aruna- is not quite clear (HEG i: s.v., HED i: s.v., Kloekhorst 2008: s.v.), and
theoretically it is not excluded that it is an old (pre-Indo-European) Anatolian word,
which would be sufficient to account for the u/i variation in the stem. It is noteworthy
that aruna- has frequently been connected in the literature with arinna- in its presumable
meaning ‘source’ (s. ibid.), which seems at present impossible to prove. Another possibility
to explain the phonetic discrepancy would be to follow the interpretation of aruna- as a
derivative of aru- ‘high’ (and, by enantiosemy, *‘deep’, cf. Kloekhorst, loc. cit.). In this case,
*arinna- may represent an alternative derivative from the root arai-/ari(ya)- (attested
also in Luwian and Lycian) ‘(a)rise, lift, raise’, which is itself possibly connected with
aru-.
26 It is noteworthy that this attestation was taken into account by L. Zgusta (1984: s.v.
Πύρινδος), who points out the similarity with the cuneiform Puranda, but for some reason
escaped the attention of scholars discussing the location of Puranda.

560 Oreshko
Blümel 1992). The second, better preserved and more important inscription
mentioning Pyrindos was discovered later at the same site and recently pub-
lished in Blümel 1992 (Nr. 22). It represents a list of 19 names captioned
‘προσταται Πυρινδιοι’. Προστάται appear to be at Knidos—as in many other po-
leis (both Dorian and Ionian) of southwestern Anatolia and the nearby
islands—a body of magistrates corresponding in their functions more or less
closely to πρυτάνεις at Athens and elsewhere (cf. Bresson 1999: 103 with further
refs. and further below). In any case, they are local officials of the Knidian polis.
As the Knidian chora included only territories on the Knidian peninsula, one
has to conclude that Pyrindos was also located here, wherever exactly it may
be sought, as already seen by A. Bresson (1999: 103–104). The location of Pyrin-
dos in exactly the same region in which the setting of the cluster Attarimma-
Šuruda-Ḫu(wa)ršanašša and identification of Mount Arinnanda lead us to ex-
pect Puranda brings a strong confirmation of the reconstruction presented
above. However, it seems possible to go one step further and propose an even
more precise location of Puranda-Pyrindos. For this, it is necessary first to
make a brief excursus into the problem of the (re)location of Knidos.
The idea that the site of Tekir at the westernmost tip of the peninsula does
not represent the original location of Knidos was first put forward by G. Bean
and J. Cook (1952: 202–212). Based primarily on the lack of early (Archaic and
High Classical) material at the predominantly Hellenistic city at Tekir, they
proposed instead to localize Archaic and Classical Knidos at the site Burgaz/
Datça in the central part of the peninsula, which demonstrated, in contrast, an
abundance of early material. Bean and Cook were able to support their inter-
pretation by a thorough reexamination of literary and epigraphical sources; as
the date for the transfer of the political centre from Burgaz to Tekir they as-
sumed either the 350s or, more likely, ca. 330 bc.
The arguments of Bean and Cook have been accepted by many (cf. literature
cited in Demand 1989: 26 n. 4), but not by all. The archaeologists working in the
region from the 1960s to the 1990s rejected the idea of a transfer pointing out
the presence of early (first half of the 4th century bc), albeit scarce, material at
Tekir (cf. Bresson 1999: 85 and Flensted-Jensen 2004: 1123); N. Demand (1989)
also presented a new revision of literary sources, for which see below. Still, the
archaeological investigations of the last two decades have unequivocally con-
firmed the idea of Bean and Cook, once again clearly demonstrating that the
centre of gravity of the early Knidos lay in the central fertile plain of the penin-
sula (Bresson 1999 and 2010: 437–440 with further literature, cf. Berges 2006:
19–34). It would be appropriate to add here a consideration on a piece of liter-
ary evidence which brings one more, hitherto unnoticed, argument for the
transfer of the city. In her—in many points unconvincing (cf. the discussion in

Bresson 1999: 88–91)—attempt to rebut Bean and Cook’s argumentation, De-

mand (1989: 232–233) adduced a passage from the Natural History of Aristotle
(HA 569a, 10–14), mentioning a pond near Knidos as a piece of evidence speak-
ing against the relatively earlier date (in the 350s bc) for the relocation of the
city. The absence in the passage of any hints as to the relocation of the city may
indeed be accepted as an argument that it did not take place until 348–342 bc
(the probable date of composition of the Natural History), but it is irrelevant
for the question of relocation itself, as there are many other factors speaking for
the later date (ca. 330 bc). However, Demand overlooked a much more impor-
tant implication of the passage, which, quite opposite to her intentions, strong-
ly supports the relocation. Aristotle (HA 569a, 13) speaks of a τέλμα ‘stagnant
water, pond, marsh, swamp’ near Knidos, the wording περὶ Κνίδον (lit. ‘round,
about’) clearly implying that he can mean only the city and not the chora of
Knidos (i.e. the peninsula). The point is that the existence of a ‘swamp’ or
‘pond’ at Tekir is impossible, as will be immediately clear to any visitor of the
site, not only because there is only one, not especially strong water source in
the area, but also because there is simply no place for it on the rocky shores of
the area.27 In contrast to Tekir, the site at Burgaz lying in the lowlands at the
mouth of the Datça Stream (Datça Çayı) exactly meets the conditions neces-
sary for the formation of a (seasonal) pond or a marsh (cf. the description in
Bean and Cook 1952: 173–176). The clues given by Aristotle are then no less elo-
quent in respect to the location of Knidos in the central, well-watered part of
the peninsula than those of Thucydides (Thuc. 8.35 and 8.43), regarded hith-
erto as the clearest literary evidence for this (cf. Bean and Cook 1952: 203 and
Bresson 1999: 89–90).
Thus, the site at Tekir on the westernmost tip of the peninsula was not called
Knidos until ca. 330 bc. However, some sort of settlement existed there, as
scattered finds from earlier than 330 bc—some reaching as far back as the
Archaic period—suggest. Bresson (1999: 93–99, cf. 2010: 438–440) supposed
that this was Triopion (Τριόπιον), the name which was applied, first of all, to
the westernmost promontory of the peninsula and then to the temple of Apol-
lo, the communal sanctuary of the Doric Hexapolis and the venue of an ag-
on.28 This location seems, however, now as before (cf. discussion in Bean and
Cook 1952: 208–210) quite problematic, as there are no clear traces of an Ar-
27 Cf. also the description in Bean and Cook 1952: 184 and, to obtain a general impression of
the area, cf. the photo in McNicoll 1997: 56, pl. 25.
28 More specifically, Bresson suggested that the original site of Triopion was the small island
at the tip of the peninsula (Deve Boynu), later connected by a causeway to the
mainland.

562 Oreshko
chaic and Classical sanctuary here, and the place does not look especially suit-
able for large-scale meetings of the Doric poleis and organizing an agon. The
location of the sanctuary at Emecik in the eastern part of the central plain of
the peninsula seems to be at present a better option, despite some unsolved
problems associated with it (Berges 2006: 19–29 with further literature). More-
over, the epigraphic evidence from Tekir, being entirely silent about Triopion,
suggests a different identification of the site.
An important piece of epigraphic evidence on which Bean and Cook (1952:
206–207) based their hypothesis of the relocation of Knidos was an inscrip-
tion (now Nr. 21 in Blümel 1992) which contains in the first line the words ἐπὶ
νεοπολιτᾶν προστατᾶν, which they plausibly interpreted as an indication of the
existence of Νεάπολις, i.e. the ‘New City’ as contrasted with the ‘Old City’ at
Burgaz. The inscription lists 15 names of these προστάται. It is noteworthy that
this inscription is, besides Blümel 1992, Nr. 22, the only other inscription
which mentions προστάται associated with a specific toponym. Although
epigraphic material concerning the institution of προστάται at Knidos is too
scarce to allow any definitive conclusions at present, the simplest interpreta-
tion of the evidence at hand is to assume that Πύρινδος and Νεάπολις repre-
sent two constituent parts of the polis of Knidos after ca. 330 bc; this means
that Pyrindos is the name of the community which existed at the site of Tekir
before the relocation here of Knidos from Burgaz.29 The numbers—19 names
of the Pyrindian προστάται against 15 names of the ‘Neapolitan’ προστάται—
suggest that this community was no less important than that moved from Old
Knidos.30
29 Cf. the considerations of Bresson (1999: 102–104 with further refs.). Proceeding from the
identification of the site at Tekir with Triopion, Bresson dismisses out of hand the possi-
bility of locating Pyrindos simply at the site where the inscriptions mentioning it have
been found. Both possibilities pondered by him—that Pyrindos is the name of the site at
Burgaz or that of the settlement at Kumyer—lack any foundation. It is noteworthy that
identification of the site at Tekir as Pyrindos further weakens the case for Triopion here,
but does not disprove it entirely. As noted (s. above, n. 28), one may rather assume a settle-
ment on the small island, while Pyrindos was definitively on the mainland (cf. below), so
there remains at least the theoretical possibility that the sanctuary of Apollo on the island
coexisted with the settlement on the mainland.
30 It is noteworthy that although Pyrindos is a Carian name, all the names of its προστάται
are Greek. This is, however, hardly surprising, given the late date of the inscription and
presumably rather sparse population in the region—to which Muršili might have signifi-
cantly contributed (cf. above)—before the arrival of the Greeks, after which they could
then be relatively quickly Hellenized.

Moreover, the localization of Pyrindos-Puranda at Tekir perfectly agrees

with the evidence of the Annals of Muršili. As noted above, the prominent
characteristic of Puranda was its high position, emphasized in the text both by
application to it of the term šarām(m)an- ‘acropolis’ or ‘summit’ and by the
usage of the directional adverbs/preverbs šēr/šarā ‘above, upwards’ and katta
‘down’. The impressive acropolis of New Knidos, rising steeply from sea level to
284 meters (Bürchner 1921: 917), perfectly corresponds to this characteristic.
The rocky and steep hill of the acropolis presents an excellent natural defence;
the choice of this sort of place as a refuge by the people coming from Attarim-
ma, Šuruda and Ḫu(wa)ršanašša would look entirely logical.31 Moreover, the
general topographical situation of the area around the acropolis offers a ready
explanation of how Tabala-Zunauli managed to escape from Puranda with his
children, wife and some followers. The acropolis of New Knidos actually makes
up a part of the ridge of Boz Dağ rising in the eastern direction up to about 550
meters (cf. the map in Bean and Cook 1952: pl. 37).32 Given the extent of the
ridge and steepness of the slopes, it is clear that it would be extremely difficult
to organize a dense siege of the acropolis from all sides. Quite probably, the
Hittites blocked only the most obvious ways leading to and from the acropolis,
as well as the road beneath the southern slope of the ridge leading east. Tabala-
Zunauli and his companions might either descend, under the cover of night,
on the northern slope of the acropolis and then go to the northern shore of the
peninsula, later turning east or, more likely, take the route along the crest of
Boz Dağ in the eastern direction, descending at some point later. In either
case, the group should have been caught when they turned south to take the
main road leading east or, at the latest, when they reached the central plain of
the peninsula. Lastly, as already mentioned above, there is only one spring at
Tekir (cf. Bean and Cook 1952: 184), and, consequently, water should have in-
deed represented a problem for the inhabitants of Puranda/Pyrindos. It is not
quite clear what Muršili meant when saying that he ‘has taken away the water
from Puranda’—whether he simply blocked the access to the spring or that
there existed a sort of aqueduct which he cut off. In either case, the besieged
31 This localization of Puranda suggests, furthermore, a ready etymology of the name: one
may see in it a derivative with the suffix -anda- of puri- which, besides its primary mean-
ing ‘lip’, also means ‘rim, edge, border’ (s. CHD P: s.v.; the word is also attested in Luwian,
cf. Melchert 1993: s.v.). The name then means ‘(that located) on the edge’, which perfectly
describes the topographical position of Puranda/Pyrindos.
32 A panoramic photo of the area (taken from Deve Boynu), giving an excellent idea of the
topographic situation, can be found in McNicoll 1997: 56, pl. 25; cf. also the description of
the defensive potential of the acropolis hill there (pp. 54–55).

564 Oreshko
Arzawans had to rely solely on the water cisterns which must have existed on
the acropolis (for the later situation cf. again Bean and Cook 1952: 184).33
To this reconstruction of the geographical setting of the “Puranda episode”,
several more details may be added. As noted above, in the passage of the Ex-
tensive Annals following the description of the capture of the refugees at
Mount Arinnanda (§10´, Goetze 1933: 58–59, or Beckman et al. 2011: 38–39) a
city is mentioned from which Muršili dispatches a message to the people of
Puranda (KUB 14.16 iii 25´: maḫḫan⸗ma INA URU […(arḫun)]). Given the gen-
eral geographical context, there is every reason to think that Muršili arrives at
Old Knidos at Burgaz/Datça, which was, before the relocation in ca. 330 bc,
doubtless the most significant settlement of the whole peninsula.34 The men-
tion also implies that Mount Arinnanda was the name for specifically the
33 It is appropriate to mention that Love 1969: 18 (with reference to E. Akurgal) reports the
finds of some Mycenaean material at Tekir, which, while confirming the LBA occupation
of the area, also nicely matches up with the fact of Tabala-Zunauli relationships with
Aḫḫiyawa referred to in the Annals.
34 It is quite an unfortunate circumstance that not a single trace of the signs comprising the
name is preserved. There are, however, several hints as to what it could sound like. The
name of Knidos is attested, in all probability, in Linear B in the ethnic ki-ni-di-ja (fem. pl.,
Knidiai) applied to the female textile workers in several tablets from Pylos (for attesta-
tions see Aura Jorro 1985–1993: s.v.; cf. further Chadwick 1988 [esp. 91–93, for Knidian and
other ‘Oriental’ women], Ergin 2007 and Shelmerdine 2008: 138–139). If the identification
is right, one may conclude that the Greek form of the toponym already corresponded to
Classical Κνίδος. On the other hand, F. Cornelius suggested that the name of Knidos is at-
tested in the “Indictment of Madduwatta” as Ḫinduwa (see attestations and ref. in rgtc
6/1: s.v. Ḫintuwa). This seems unlikely, as the context of appearance of Ḫinduwa in con-
junction with T(a)lawa speaks rather for its identification with Κάνδυβα (Lyc. Χãkbi, Lyc.
B Xãzbi) in Lycia (cf. ibid.). However, the appearance of, in all probability, the same name
in a slightly different form Κινδύη in Caria shows that it was a common name in south-
western Anatolia, based on some common substantive present in the Luwic languages of
the region. To these two cases, one may tentatively add Carian kiδbsiś, which likely repre-
sents an ethnic name possibly but not necessarily connected with Κινδύη (cf. Adiego 2007:
373 with further refs.), and the name of the river Indos (Ἰνδός) in the Carian-Lycian
borderland (modern Dalaman Çayı), which might also go back to Ḫindu(wa). The loss of
the initial laryngeal may be explained by association with the Indian Indos (which also
goes back to the form with initial laryngeal Hindu, the Iranian form of Sindhu). It is, con-
sequently, possible that Knidos is eventually also based on the same root as Kandyba and
Kindye; however, given the stem type of the Greek name, one may rather think that the
original form was *Ḫindu or, more likely, a form with another frequent toponymic suffix,
namely -ssa- (*Ḫindušša). The metathesis *ḫin- > kni- one may explain as triggered by as-
sociation with κνίδη ‘nettle’. Curiously, the only etymon which can be proposed for the
stem *ḫindu- is also a name of a garden plant, ḫinḫindu- (for attestations s. HW2 3,2, s.v.),
which may be interpreted as a reduplicated from of *ḫindu-. Given the location of Knidos
in the fertile valley of the Datça stream and that the root *ḫindu- was possibly present in
the name of the Carian Indos, this connection with the plant does not seem impossible.

Map 30.2 Southwestern Anatolia in the 14th–13th centuries bc
e astern mountainous part of the Knidian peninsula. Moreover, one can hardly
doubt that the pitched battle between the Hittites and Tabala-Zunauli referred
to in §21´ of the Ten-Year Annals (Goetze 1933: 62–63, or Beckman et al. 2011:
20–21), which took place on the ‘fields and leas’ (ANA A.ŠÀ A.GÀR-ŠU) and
involved chariots, took place not far from Old Knidos somewhere on the cen-
tral plain of the peninsula—the only area in the region in which such a battle
is thinkable.
As a result, the localization of the “Puranda episode” in the southwestern
corner of Asia Minor allows all its details be harmoniously integrated into a
coherent picture (map 30.2). For all four cities mentioned in the text there can
be proposed identifications, although these are of somewhat different quality
and some of them, if taken separately, might seem doubtful (as Šuruda/Syrna
or Ḫu(wa)ršanašša/Chersonesos). The description of Mount Arinnanda

566 Oreshko
perfectly fits the natural conditions of the eastern part of the Knidian penin-
sula, even if no matching name can (yet) be found for this region in the later
sources. The identification of Puranda with Pyrindos—which was to become
New Knidos around 330 bc—agrees in the finest detail with the evidence giv-
en in the text of the Annals about this city. Last but not least, the relocation of
the “Puranda episode” significantly clarifies the inner logic of the Arzawa cam-
paign of Muršili. After the conquest of Abaša, the capital of Arzawa, Muršili
proceeded south, most probably taking the same route as described in the
“Tawagalawa letter”, through the Marsyas valley and the land of Yalanda, which,
to all appearances, fell into the hands of the Hittites without any resistance, as
did the depopulated cities of the Carian Chersonesos (Attarimma, Šuruda and
Ḫu(wa)ršanašša). Puranda, located on the very edge of the southwestern coast,
proves to represent literally the “last inch” of Arzawan territory on the Anato-
lian mainland. Even if the Arzawan princes and a part of its population appar-
ently found refuge on the Aegean islands—some of which (as Samos, Chios or
Kos) were quite probably an integral part of Arzawa—and under the aegis of
the king of Aḫḫiyawa, the establishment of Hittite control over the whole
stretch from Abaša to Puranda unambiguously spelled the end of Arzawa as an
Anatolian power.
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Chapter 31
Phrygia and the Near East

Maya Vassileva
Abstract
Phrygian interactions with the ancient Near East have long been a subject of discussion.
Recent progress in research on both areas, and the increase in published material,
allows for some further remarks on the place of the future Phrygia in 2nd millennium
bc Hittite Anatolia. Near Eastern architectural and artistic influences on the Early
Phrygian Citadel in the 1st millennium bc have also long been noted. These referred
mainly to the royal cult and its possible setting in an urban environment. A Luwian
milieu is suspected for the possible loans, and the stimulus for emulation radiated
mainly from the Syro-Hittte cultural sphere. However, the time of the borrowings can-
not be securely specified, even though the influence turned out to be short-lived. Near
Eastern stylistic features continued in Phrygian minor arts in later times.
Keywords
Phrygia – Anatolia – Gordion – fibulae
Modern scholarship emphasizes the Anatolian nature of Phrygian Iron Age

culture and is mainly engaged in discussing Anatolian and Near Eastern inter-
faces. The impressive architecture of the Phrygian capital city, Gordion, has
often prompted comparisons with the “other major monarchical polities” in
Anatolia and the Near East (Sams 2012: 53–57). Recent progress in the research
of Gordion and Phrygia, as well as the increase in published material, allows
for some further comments and interpretations.
Ancient Near Eastern influences and affinities in Phrygia have long been
discussed as possible architectural, artistic and iconographic loans or inspira-
tions. Several exhaustive articles have considered the variety of objects found
in early Gordion that might have been Near Eastern imports or produced un-
der influences radiating from this area (Muscarella 1962; Sams 1974, 1993). G.K.
Sams has also discussed architectural borrowings and parallels, arguing in fa-
vor of their 9th century bc date (Sams 1989).

572 Vassileva
1 Bronze Age Evidence
Bronze Age archaeological evidence, although provided by only two deep

soundings at Gordion, suggests that Phrygian territory lay in the Hittite orbit,
possibly at the western periphery of Hatti in the Old Hittite period and firmly
within Hittite territory both politically and culturally in the Late Bronze Age
(Gunter 1991: 48, 104; 2006: 351–352; Dusinberre 2005: 20–21). Earlier excava-
tions at Gordion revealed a Hittite cemetery (Mellink 1956). Several Late
Bronze Age seals, sealings and a bulla find close parallels in or are identical
with items from the Hittite heartland (Dusinberre 2005: Cat. Nos. 7–14). Some
of them were used to stamp pottery, and most of them were found in later
contexts in Gordion. Three of the seals/sealings bear hieroglyphic inscriptions,
mostly damaged and illegible (Dusinberre 2005: Cat. Nos. 5, 10 and 14).1 The
bulla was assigned to the Old Hittite kingdom.
All of these finds point to trade and distribution rather than actual Hittite
administration. The standardized pottery assemblage, with clear affinities to
Boğazköy repertoire, may imply state-like organization and control. Gordion
was probably part of a regional network for producing and distributing pottery
in the Late Bronze Age (Voigt and Henrickson 2000: 41–42; Voigt 2002: 192;
Gunter 2006: 352–353). However, ceramic peculiarities of the southwestern
and south-central Anatolian areas appeared in Late Bronze Age pottery at Gor-
dion as well (Gunter 2006: 354). Whether this evidence can match any political
boundaries is hard to assess. Yet the future Phrygian capital seemed to have
been at the western borders of the Hittite Empire. Not far from it, at the west-
ern fringes of the Anatolian plateau, probably lay the inland boundary between
Mira and Hatti, and further south lay Pedassa, a Hittite dependency (Hawkins
1998: 1 and Fig. 11; Gunter 2006: 354–356).
2 Early Iron Age Evidence
We can hardly tell what population lived around the future Gordion: Hittite or
Luwian. The scale and the nature of the Anatolian Bronze Age heritage in
Phrygia are still unclear, while its interactions with the Neo-Hittite sphere are
better defined. As Neo-Hittite states preserved elements of the Hittite politi-
cal and artistic tradition, it is hard to specify the exact source of Phrygian ad
aptations: inherited or borrowed synchronously. Nevertheless, contemporary
1 G. Beckman suggested readings for Nos. 10 and 14, a personal name Armaziti appearing on
the latter (Dusinberre 2005: 39–41).

Phrygia and the Near East 573
parallels, those from the 9th and 8th centuries bc, are better discernable. The
political and military activity of King Mita and the Muški in southeastern Ana-
tolia in the late 8th century bc is well attested by Assyrian documents (Hawkins
1993–1997: 271–272; 2000:42; Sams 1995: 1148–1149). The Phrygians were most
probably in contact (or conflict) with Assyria even earlier.
Gordion Citadel Mound is comparable to Neo-Hittite cities in the sense that
they all had walled citadels, lower fortified and/or outer open towns. The scale,
however, is different. Architectural elements from the Early Phrygian Citadel
have long been compared with Neo-Hittite building decorations (Sams 1989,
2012: 57–60; Orthmann 2004: 462–463). Although not found in situ, the ortho-
stats from Gordion and Ankara2 show that the Phrygians were influenced by
the Neo-Hittite practice of adorning city walls and gates with relief slabs. An
assumption was made that the Gordion pieces might have been placed as wall
pedestals on the outer face of the so-called “Polychrome House”, the actual
Gate Building, flanking its two doors (Sams 1989: 450–452). If correct, this
would demonstrate the same special attention given to the entrance of the
citadel as observed in Karkamiš and elsewhere. Rituals at the gate, at the en-
trance, had even a longer history going back to the Hittites.
Recent excavations have revealed similar attention, although at a later date,
given to one of the gates of the city of Kerkenes Dağ, which produced an Old
Phrygian inscription (Brixhe and Summers 2006; Draycott and Summers 2008).
One semi-iconic anthropomorphic stele/idol stood near one of the tower-like
platforms of the Cappadocian gate, facing the Audience Hall (Draycott and
Summers 2008: 5). Another, aniconic stele was discovered at the corner of the
Middle Tower (Summers and Summers 2012: 168, Fig. 5).
3 Orthostats and Iconography
We do not have many human figures preserved on the Phrygian orthostats and
certainly no processions. A fragmentary male figure wearing the ritual boots
with upturned toes that were characteristic of Hittite divine images can be
seen on one of the Gordion slabs (Sams 1989, No. 2, Pl. 129, 4). A similarly dam-
aged head of a lion/griffin, upside-down, is depicted next to the human feet, as
if the animal were held by the legs. This might have been “the Master of
2 The horse and the bull slabs from Ankara differ significantly in style from the rest of the or-
thostats. They look more Greek than Near Eastern. All of the Ankara reliefs were found at
different places and in different periods (mostly by accident and reused), thus precise dating
is impossible. See Sams 2012: 58 and Buluç 1988.

574 Vassileva
nimals”, an iconographic type with a long tradition in the Near East. Only the
A
lower part of a seated human figure is preserved on another orthostat (Sams
1989, No. 6, Pl. 130, 3). Otherwise, animal repertoires prevailed. Both the choice
of the animals depicted, lions and griffins, and their stylistic features betray
Syro-Hittite affinities. This would more readily suggest parallels with the earli-
er stage of monumental building at Karkamiš when animal figures dominated,
following in its turn an earlier Hittite-Hurrian tradition (Gilibert 2011: 115).
Direct stylistic parallels for the architectural elements of the Gordion Early
Phrygian citadel can hardly be found, but the closest similarities are rightfully
noted with those from Karkamiš (Sams 1989: 449).
It is impossible to decide whether the Neo-Hittite meaning of these reliefs
was also adopted by the Phrygian elite. A general and easier, but certainly not
proven, interpretation would be a representation of status and an apotropaic
function of the gate decoration.
Recently it has been suggested that the arrangement of the Karkamiš ortho-
stats was designed for open-air ceremonies, for rituals that included proces-
sions and stops at certain places (Gilibert 2011: 98). As Gilibert states, “the
processions represented on stone mirrored and at the same time inspired pro-
cessional events” (Gilibert 2011: 107). In a way this might as well have been true
for Gordion, despite the lack of procession scenes on the preserved orthostats.
They might have been part of a program for bringing the Phrygian ritual into
an urban setting which was otherwise mainly performed in the highlands and
countryside. So far, no building at Gordion has certainly been identified as a
temple, although Megaron 2 is the best and most plausible candidate. The
space behind the gate building opening to the Palace Quarter and the stairs to
the Terrace could have accommodated ritual events. Or the images on the
slabs could have simply reiterated religiously important moments or symbols
that would prepare people entering and proceeding further into the city (to
Megaron 2?).3
The original position of the Ankara reliefs is also not known. According to
their find spots, they probably belonged to different constructions. One origi-
nated from the area of the citadel which would correspond to the context of
the Gordion orthostats (Buluç 1988: 18–19). A hypothesis has long been ad-
vanced that the reliefs might have come from shrines erected near tumuli and
thus related to the cult of the dead (Buluç 1988: 20). This possibility cannot be
excluded in view of the abundant evidence about the cult of the Phrygian
Mother furnished by the tumular burials (see Simpson 2010).
3 Note Sams’ suggestion that the benches at the later approach way would have allowed visibil-
ity of the reliefs for those who enter the citadel (Sams 1989: 452).

The above considerations pose the question of the placement of the Kybele
stone reliefs, none of them found in situ either. They are taller than the animal
reliefs and can hardly be arranged in an even row with them. The miniature
relief found in the fill of Tumulus C at Gordion (Kohler 1995: 34, TumC 26)
and the miniature model of a shrine from Boğazköy (Naumann 1983: 94) sug-
gest that the image of the Phrygian goddess could have also been paired with
a bull,4 which opens the possibility for the Ankara bull orthostat to be ar-
ranged together with some of the goddess’s stone reliefs. Could the Gordion
relief of Matar (found in the Sangarios riverbed: Mellink 1983: 349; Naumann
1983: 64–65, No. 19; Roller 1999: 72, Fig. 7) have been associated with the
orthostats?
The stylistic peculiarities of the Gordion orthostats allow G.K. Sams to argue
for an early date of borrowing from Karkamiš: he found more similarities with
the images produced during the reign of the Suhis dynasty (Sams 1989: 452–
453; 2012: 57). Some of the Zincirli early orthostats also provide good parallels.
Yet these reliefs were there for a long time, and emulation could have occurred
any time between the 10th and late 8th–7th century bc (Sams 1974: 183–184,
note 41). G.K. Sams observed some iconographic changes that occurred later in
the period and were not attested in Phrygian animal representations: there-
fore, he defends an earlier, 9th-century date for the possible adaptations.5 As
the earlier images were still there, it might as well have been rather a matter of
choice than of chronology.
Lately, another piece of evidence has been related to the Near Eastern/
North Syrian influences at Gordion: the drawings inscribed on stones of Mega-
ron 2 and of the Early Phrygian Citadel Gateway. Their predominantly
non-figure repertoire suggests Neo-Hittite inspirations and reveals creative
Phrygian developments. A courtyard opens in front of Megaron 1 and 2, so the
graffiti might have also been visible to the audience, but they could hardly have
been meant for public display because of their poor artistic quality and rather
chaotic arrangement. Whether they were sketches for an actual program of
public relief sculpture (Roller 2009: 41) remains disputable. Likewise uncer-
tain, but not impossible, is the identification of a couple of Luwian hieroglyph-
ic signs on four of the stones (Roller 2009: 34, Nos. 32, 64, 75 and 93). Grafitti
associated with the city gate were also discovered later in Kerkenes Dağ (Sum-
mers 2006: 652–653, Taf. 2).
4 The idea has long been proposed: see Roller 1988: 44; 1999: 75.
5 The question is whether iconographic elements, taken one by one, and stylistic elements in
general can provide enough support for the earlier date of the Gordion monuments, hence of
their destruction.

576 Vassileva
However, the use of the above architectural details and the orthostats did
not last long: all of them were found reused in later contexts. Although the
Gordion Middle Phrygian Citadel was rebuilt soon after the destruction and
followed in general the previous urban planning (Voigt 2002: 194; 2005: 32–35),
the orthostat decoration was obviously dropped. Some of the unfinished or-
thostats (if not discarded as mistakes) bear witness to the interruption of the
new building project that had started soon before the catastrophe. The decora-
tion program was never resumed.
4 Cult of Kubaba
Karkamiš provides yet another major subject for comparisons: the cult of
Kubaba that has long been considered as the prototype of Phrygian Kybele, or
the Kybelean Mother/Matar. Without entering into the long-lived discussion
on the topic (cf. Roller 1999:44–53; Munn 2006: 114–125), I would emphasize the
typological and functional parallels between the two cults.
The fundamental resemblance was between the role of the rulers of
Karkamiš in the cult of Kubaba and that of the Phrygian kings in the Matar’s
worship (see the similar approach in Munn 2006: 114–120). Kubaba was the
Queen of Karkamiš (KARKAMIŠ A23.2, 5; A25a.3; A31.3); the rulers claimed
her love and protection, addressed her as ‘my sovereign’ (KARKAMIŠ A18e3;
A23.2), and announced themselves as ‘beloved of Kubaba’ (KARKAMIŠ A13c1;
A21.1; A15b1) or ‘Kubaba’s dear servant’ (KARKAMIŠ A15e1).
Phrygian rock-cut façades and niches were the sacred places of Kybele
where she was worshipped. A dedication to King Midas is carved on the fa-
mous “Midas Monument” in the “City of Midas”—a rock-cut façade whose
central niche once held the image of Matar. The posts of the door frame of the
niche bear graffiti, a dedication of (one) Midas to Matar (M-01d) among them.
The symbolism of geometrical designs on rock-cut shrines of the goddess has
long been discussed in relation to both the Phrygian king/noble and the god-
dess (Simpson 1988, 2010). In addition, a group of Greek literary texts claimed
Midas as Kybele’s son (Hygin. Fab. 274.6; Plut. Caes. 9).6 Stylistically, Near East-
ern influence can be observed in the relief of Kybele found in Ankara (Etlik),
probably already Assyrianized (Naumann 1983: 65–67, No. 20). Therefore, pace
the linguistic dispute about the names of Kubaba and Kybele/Kybebe, Kubaba
seems a plausible prototype (or at least a contributor to the nature) of the
Phrygian goddess on functional grounds.
6 On the involvement of Midas in the mysteries and the rites of the goddess, cf. Diod. 3.59.8;
Arnob. Adv. Nat. 2.73; Clem. Protr. 2.13.3.

5 Epigraphic Evidence
A general resemblance between the 1st millennium bc Luwian inscriptions

and the Phrygian epigraphic data should be noted: both corpora are predomi-
nantly commemorative and dedicatory. Nothing even close to the huge variety
of texts from the Hittite and Assyrian archives, nor from the Urartian epigraph-
ic data, is known to date. Kubaba appears in curse formulae in a number of
Luwian inscriptions from Karkamiš, while the curse formulae became stan-
dard only in the Neo-Phrygian texts from Roman imperial times with few ex-
ceptions. A.-M. Wittke supposed that the boustrophedon arrangement of
Phrygian inscriptions was borrowed from Luwian hieroglyphic practice
(Wittke 2007: 341). Another possible borrowing in the script could be seen in
the “lunar” C-sign discovered in the inscription from Kerkenes Dağ and in one
graffito, a personal name cUrunis, carved on a wooden beam of the burial
chamber of Tumulus MM at Gordion. C. Brixhe proposed to interpret this as a
logogram (Liebhart and Brixhe 2009: 151–152).
It has long been noted that the iconography of the hawk, the bird of prey,
which is an attribute of the Phrygian goddess on the stone reliefs, resembles
closely the Luwian hieroglyphic sign which was part of the name of Kubaba
(Barnett 1948: 22, Fig. 21; Mellink 1983: 353; Sams 1974: 182, note 31; Roller 1999:
46). The hawk is also often present among the graffiti on the stones of Megaron
2 at Gordion (Roller 2009: Cat. Nos. 3, 5, 11, 19. 20, 21, 26, 50, 54, 65–66, 69, 82,
96), as well as among the animals on Phrygian painted pottery (Sams 1974:176).
The bird appears as a tridimensional statuette as well: an ivory handle for a
stamp seal and an alabaster figurine bearing an inscription (Mellink 1964;
G-136). One cannot exclude the possibility that a logographic sign from the
name of the Neo-Hittite goddess had been turned into an attribute of Phrygian
Matar. Such a hypothesis would indirectly support the assumption of a con-
nection between Kubaba and Kybele and point to a Luwian milieu for
adaptation.
Phrygian writing practice only rarely used stone slabs; the greatest number
of inscriptions is rock-cut. A couple of fragmentary monuments were discov-
ered in Tyana (Atuna) which strongly resemble Luwian stelae. The “Black
Stones” of Tyana (basalts; T01–T03) possibly belonged to one or more rectangu-
lar stelae with a rounded top (Brixhe 2004: 103), inscribed on three sides, a
practice uncommon in the Phrygian heartland.7 The texts are among the
7 Two more inscriptions from Gordion and its vicinity display writing on three sides but on a
parallelepiped and a trapezoid stone, namely G-01 and G-11 (Brixhe and Lejeune 1984: 81–85;
Brixhe 2002: 31–37). Both are too fragmentary for a plausible interpretation; the latter possi-
bly contains a curse formula.

578 Vassileva
earliest in Old Phrygian. Because of the mentioning of Midas in the nomina-

tive Mida, C. Brixhe suggested that these were public “historical” texts erected
after the example of the Assyrian kings (Brixhe 1991: 45–46; 2004: 103). Other-
wise, these inscriptions are very fragmentary, and the nature of the text re-
mains elusive. If we consider the “Black Stone” bearing the name of Midas as a
kind of royal representation or a political claim, this would rather have been
done through a dedication or religious type of message.
A similar practice of writing along the edges of a monument can be found
on the relief from Kerkenes Dağ. The remains of two figures and of the winged
sun-disc display obvious Near Eastern iconography. The text is dedicatory. The
fragmentary statue supposed to have crowned the monument has so far been
interpreted as that of a ruler or an important male figure, although elements in
its outfit are similar to those of Kybele. The placement of the structure some-
where in the Monumental Entrance to the Palatial Complex is also instructive
(Draycott and Summers 2008: 5).
I will not discuss here the question of the Phrygian alphabet, which can also
be considered a Near Eastern contribution to Phrygian culture. In view of the
new chronology of the Gordion Destruction Level, R.S. Young’s idea about an
independent borrowing from North Syria (Young 1969; Sams 1974: 192) now
seems more probable.8
6 Artistic Influences
Near Eastern artistic influences and inspirations have been detected in a num-
ber of Phrygian objects of different categories. These continued to be visible
during the Middle Phrygian period, probably transmitted by minor arts in dif-
ferent media (Sams 1974: 189). Animals painted in linear style on Phrygian
pottery find good parallels in North Syrian sculpture (Sams 1974). This style,
however, similarly to the orthostats, was not long-lived (Sams 1974: 170). Analo-
gous linear, non-anthropomorphic iconography of the Early and Middle Phry-
gian seals from Gordion displays the same affinity (Dusinberre 2005: 22–23).
One category of Near Eastern objects at Gordion has not received enough
attention: the fibulae (a few were listed in Muscarella 1967: 83). Three fibulae of
Near Eastern origin were discovered on the Early Phrygian Citadel at Gordion
(TB8). They have triangular-shaped bows, swollen in the middle, and two
8 Recent discussions of the time of adaptation of the West Semitic alphabet by the Greeks and
the Phrygians are in Sass 2005: 146–152; 157–158 (“the potential of Phrygian precedence is at
least as strong as the Greek”).

b iconical moldings between two or more discs at each end (Vassileva 2012:
118–121, Fig. 8.5a–b). With few exceptions, all fibulae from the Pre-Destruction
and Destruction Level were discovered in the “Industrial Quarter”, associated
with textile production equipment. In the case of the imported fibulae, one
can suggest either foreign workers or distant customers for textiles, clothing
and accessories (Vassileva 2018). Similar fibulae were found in levels of the
Middle Phrygian period as well. At the same time, classical Near Eastern trian-
gular (or “knee-bow/elbow”) fibulae appeared in numbers at Gordion.
7 Conclusions
Ancient Phrygia certainly was exposed to varied Near Eastern influences. The
stimulus for emulation radiated mainly from the Syro-Hittte cultural sphere,
and the borrowings were ingeniously reworked and adapted by the Phrygians.
These referred mainly to the royal cult and its possible setting in an urban en-
vironment. Nevertheless, these influences were short-lived, superficial in a
way, and did not change the type of Phrygian state and society. Assyrianizing
artistic features in Phrygian monuments could also have originated in the
north Syrian area as some of the Neo-Hittite kingdoms, like Zincirli/Sam’al,
were under strong Assyrian influence.
The Phrygians did not adopt the wide variety of administrative, “historical”,
royal, building or commemorative texts inscribed on stone or statues, so popu-
lar among all of their neighbors. The Luwian environment possibly stimulated
a wider use of writing compared to their Thracian kin, but still only in ceremo-
nial settings. The practically anonymous goddess Matar, her rock-cut places of
worship and the ritual use of writing point to the Balkan background of Phry-
gian culture, which was later transformed to produce a much more complex
and sophisticated mode of life. On the other hand, Near Eastern artistic and
stylistic loans, mainly in minor arts, turned out to be long-lasting and contin-
ued until Persia took over and influenced in its turn Phrygian lifestyles and
artistic tastes.
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Chapter 32
The Disappearance of Telipinu in the Context of

Indo-European Myth
Roger D. Woodard
Abstract
The Hittite myth of the disappearance of the god Telipinu (CTH 324) is one particular
expression, and the most fully attested, of the genre of the disappearing god in Hittite
tradition. In many of its structural details, the myth of Telipinu’s disappearance paral-
lels strikingly a widespread Indo-European mythic tradition (with ritual underpin-
nings), being especially similar to the tradition of the disappearance of Indra following
his slaying of the dragon Vṛtra. In the several Indo-European cultures that attest the
tradition—Indo-Iranian, Italic, Celtic, even Greek—the myth is concerned with the
functional absence of a powerful warrior after a combat episode in which the warrior
prevails against his enemy but is then overwhelmed by trauma; in his traumatized
state, the warrior turns his rage against his own society or physically removes himself
from society: either way, he becomes a dysfunctional warrior. In the case of the Hittite
myth, however, the disappearance of the god appears to be bound up with the rhythm
of the vegetative cycle. The myth of the disappearance of Telipinu presents itself as a
reflex of a transplanted Indo-European myth that has experienced synthesis with local
southwest Asian traditions. Particularly significant in this regard is its apparent en-
gagement with and influence upon a Syrian storm-god tradition.
Keywords
Baal – disappearing god – dying/rising god – dysfunctional warrior – Frazer, James

George – Indo-European – Indra – Syria – Telipinu – Ugaritic
1 The Indo-European Tradition of the Dysfunctional Warrior
Across the ancient Indo-European world, we find occurrences of a myth of a

warrior who performs great deeds of combat only to fall into a state of dysfunc-
tionality, and so one who becomes a warrior in name only—a warrior who can

584 Woodard
no longer perform his proper role within that realm of Indo-European society
in which he is a specialist (see Woodard 2006: 211–219; 2013; 2017a; 2017b; and
forthcoming). The warrior’s dysfunctionality is expressed in one of two ways,
or in both ways in some cases. On the one hand, the warrior is possessed by
that combat rage well known among Indo-European warrior figures, that mad-
ness that can be named by such terms as Latin furor, Old Irish ferg, Greek μένος,
Old English wōd, and so on; but the warrior cannot rid himself of this rage fol-
lowing combat and so turns his destructive madness against his own society,
making those whom he is bound to protect to be his enemies. On the other
hand, the warrior’s dysfunctionality can take the form of dissipation of his
rage, of failing to respond to society’s enemies as enemy: this is the warrior
who flees from society, leaving those whom he is bound to protect without
protection. Either way, the warrior endangers his own society by failing prop-
erly to exercise his expertise in the function of physical force and so becomes
dysfunctional.
An early attested example of the Indo-European dysfunctional warrior is
provided by Indra Vṛtrahan, slayer of the dragon Vṛtra, as he appears in Rig
Veda 1.32. The slaying of that dragon is Indra’s great heroic deed, constantly
rehearsed in the Rig Veda by the invoking of Indra’s epithet Vṛtrahan. The
hymn begins:
Indrasya nu vīriyāṇi pra vocaṃ…yāni cakāra prathamāni vajrī

ahann ahim anu apas tatarda…pra vakṣaṇā abhinat parvatānām
Now I will proclaim the bold deeds of Indra ... the first done by the
thunderbolt-wielder
He killed the dragon and opened the waters ... he cleaved the belly of the
mountains
But, in stark contrast to the heroic dragon-slayer of stanza 1, we encounter a

very different Indra in stanza 14, as the hymn approaches its conclusion; here
the god is possessed by a debilitating fear:
aher yātāraṃ kam apaśya indra…hṛdi yat te jaghnuṣo bhīr agachat

nava ca yan navatiṃ ca sravantīḥ…śyeno na bhīto ataro rajāṃsi
What avenger of the dragon did you see Indra…that fear passed into the
heart of you who’d slain him,
That you crossed nine and ninety streams…like the frightened eagle you
crossed the skies?

The Disappearance of Telipinu 585
As is so often the case, it is to the epic Mahābhārata that we must turn in

order to fill out the tradition. To summarize briefly, in Mahābhārata 5 (and see
also Mahābhārata 12) we find a deranged Indra ‘seeking out the ends of the
world’ (antam āśritya lokānām); he hides within the waters where he writhes
like a snake (5.10.45–46). We learn that the remote space to which he has re-
treated is a great lake within an island—and the island itself lies within a sea
located beyond the Himalayas. It is a luxuriant watery space that is filled with
birds and myriad lotuses—lotuses that are said to be ‘celebrated by bees’
(ṣaṭpadair upagītāni), where the verb here translated ‘celebrated’ (upagāyati)
denotes a song performance, such as that of a bard. Indra has become tiny and
has taken refuge within one of the lotuses (5.14.5–9). With the disappearance
of the warrior Indra, a great drought occurs that causes forests to die and bod-
ies of water to dry up. All beings (sattvās) are violently jolted by Indra’s absence
and the gods themselves are ‘terrified’ (trastās). The ‘whole universe’ (jagat sar-
vam) has been upended ‘with misfortunes’ (upadravaiḥ) (5.10.46–50).
Indra is discovered and confronted by his wife Śacī when she is led into his
presence by Upaśruti, a spirit of divination (5.14.5–12). A scheme is set in place
in which Śacī dangles herself in front of Nahuṣa as erotic bait, Nahuṣa being
the lust-consumed figure who rules in Indra’s absence and makes of himself a
despot (5.15.5–21). What results will be the destruction of Nahuṣa. Bṛhaspati,
‘priest of the gods’, travels to the remote space of Indra’s disappearance and
there performs an enunciative act that causes Indra to recover his stature and
his power (5.16.10–20):1
Mahāsuro hataḥ, Śakra, Namucir dāruṇas tvayā,

Śambaraś ca Balaś caiva tathobhau ghoravikramau.
śatakrato, vivardhasva, sarvān śatrūn niṣūdaya!
uttiṣṭha, Śakra, saṃpaśya devarṣīṃś ca samāgatān!
mahendra, dānavān hatvā lokās trātās tvayā, vibho.
apāṃ phenaṃ samāsādya Viṣṇutejotibṛṃhitam
tvayā Vṛtro hataḥ pūrvaṃ, devarāja jagatpate.
tvaṃ sarvabhūteṣu śaraṇya īḍyas.
tvayā samaṃ vidyate neha bhūtam.
tvayā dhāryante sarvabhūtāni, Śakra.
tvaṃ devānāṃ mahimānaṃ cakartha.
pāhi sarvāṃś ca lokāṃś ca, mahendra, balam āpnuhi!
1 Based on the edition of Garbutt 2008. On the similarity of this hymn to that of the Fratres
Arvales (the Carmen Arvale) who hymn Mars back across the boundary of the Ager Roma-
nus, see Woodard 2011: 318–321; see also Woodard 2013: 181–183 and 2006: 224, 258, and 262.

586 Woodard
The mighty Asura, dreadful Namuci, was slain by you, O Śakra,

and Śambara and Vala too, both of awful prowess.
You of a hundred sacrifices, grow powerful, destroy all enemies!
Stand up, O Śakra, look upon assembled gods and seers.
Mighty Indra, slaying the Dānavas, the worlds (lokās) have been saved by
you, O lord.
Using the foam of the waters that was augmented by Viṣṇu’s splendor
Vṛtra was slain by you long ago, O king of gods, O world-master.
You, the protector, are to be praised by all beings.
To you no being is found to be equal.
By you, O Śakra, are all beings supported,
You have accomplished might for the gods.
Protect [us] all and protect spaces (lokās), O great Indra, gain strength!
Indra grows mighty and returns to his rightful position as divine king, re-
inaugurated in effect, while the deposed despotic Nahuṣa is transformed into a
snake (5.17.1–19). Order has been restored.
This, then, is one expression, briefly summarized, of the primitive Indo-
European myth of the warrior who ceases to function as such following com-
bat, and of the process by which he recovers his functionality. Other reflexes of
the myth can be found:
(1) In Irish accounts of CúChulainn and the danger his ferg presents to his
own people of Ulster following his defeat of the three sons of Nechta
Scéne (Foill, Fannall, and Tuachell) and of the delegation of nude women
who disarm him;2
(2) In the Roman poetic tradition of the Sabine Semo Sancus (assimilated to
Hercules), his heroic slaying of the three-headed Palatine monster Cacus,
and his subsequent desiccated derangement and encounter with nude
women worshippers within the grove of the goddess Bona Dea (Proper-
tius 4.9);3
(3) The warrior Batraz of the Iranian Nart epics (likely the Scythian Ares of
Herodotus 4.62), as preserved by the Ossetes and other peoples of the
Caucasus—and perhaps informed by the Armenian account of Vahagn
(that is, Iranian Vərəθraγna, being the Avestan cognate of Vṛtrahan), his
fiery rage and its cooling in association with erotic and clairvoyant f igures,
and with watery and remote spaces.4 The similarity of this account to
2 See Woodard 2013: 121–124, 130–133, 171–173, 206–207; 218–219, and 230.
3 See Woodard 2013: 124–128, 133–138, 207–208, 219, and 231–233.
4 See Woodard 2013: 153–160, 167–170, 173–174, 175–176, 203–206, 217–218, and 230.

that of the Irish CúChulainn had been realized already by Dumézil (see
Dumézil 1970: 133–138).
(4) The warrior figures of Bellerophon and Lycurgus of Greek heroic poetic
tradition, and their affiliation with the now familiar motifs of warrior iso-
lationism, and of warrior rage turned against the warrior’s society (which
makes of the two warriors who are “hated by all gods,” Homer Iliad 6.140
and 200), characterized by movement to remote space, watery setting,
figures of eroticism and so on.5
(5) Germanic wolfish warriors of the Icelandic Eyrbyggja Saga, typified by
similar features.6
From these several attested Indo-European traditions (and still other mythic
and ritual reflexes), a primitive Indo-European myth of the dysfunctional war-
rior can be diachronically extrapolated. The ancestral narrative tradition so
recovered is characterized by a structural matrix that is formed of six compo-
nent elements: (1) initial presentation of the crisis of the warrior; (2) move-
ment across space to a distant locale; (3) confrontation between the warrior
and an erotic feminine, typically a body of women who display themselves
lewdly or offer themselves sexually to the warrior (figures of fecundity); (4) a
clairvoyant feminine who facilitates or mediates in this confrontation; (5) ap-
plication of waters to the warrior; and (6) consequent establishment of s ocietal
order, often coupled with an inaugural event. Any single one of these features
may be in and of itself unremarkable and of broad cultural distribution, and
perhaps an expression of certain anthropological primitives. What is signifi-
cant is the assembling of the features into a recurring system of mythic and rit-
ual morphological structure.
2 The Disappearance of Telipinu et al.
Well known is the Hittite myth of the disappearing deity, the best-preserved
versions of which concern the disappearance of Telipinu (CTH 324),7 a god of
Hattic origin, son of the great Storm-god, typically characterized as a deity
5 See Woodard 2017a and 2017b.

6 See Woodard forthcoming.
7 On the Telipinu myth, see, inter alia, Otten 1942; Goetze 1969: 126–128; Kellerman 1986; Hoff-
ner 1990: 14–20; Haas 1994: 707–719; Güterbock 1997; Mazoyer 2003; Atterer 2011. Regarding
the nature of the god, see also Taracha 2009: 53. Similar disappearance traditions are attested
for the Storm-god and Ḫannaḫanna, among still others.

588 Woodard
of vegetation: for example, in the myth concerning the disappearance of the

Sun-god (CTH 323), Telipinu is described as involved in plowing, irrigating, and
doing something that involves grain (Hoffner 1990: 27). But he clearly shows
traits of a Storm-god; thus, in the text with which we are here principally con-
cerned, an angry Telipinu is depicted as coming with lightning, as repeatedly
thundering, and as iteratively striking the dark earth with his bolts (KUB 17.10
ii 33–34).
The narrative of version 1 of the disappearance of Telipinu proceeds in this
way. The text begins with a description of the onset of a chaotic state: we
read (KUB 17.10 i 5–9) how ‘mist took the windows’; ‘smoke took the house’;
and ‘burning logs’, ‘altars of the gods’, ‘sheep’, and ‘cattle’ were all ‘put out of
order’—where we must agree with Melchert’s (2016, pp. 214–219) cogent ar-
gument for understanding the proper sense of the verb wišūriya- to be ‘twist’,
thus indicating in the present passage a ‘putting out of order’ and not a ‘stifling’
or a ‘suffocating’ as has been commonly presumed. The narrative continues:
Telipinu went away and carried grain and agricultural abundance to the
meadow, to the ‘marsh’ (or ‘swamp’; marmar(r)a-), and he himself went to
the marsh and ‘blended’ or ‘joined’ (ulišta) into the marsh, and ḫalenzu-, an
aquatic plant—seemingly ‘duckweed’ or ‘algae’—grew over him (KUB 17.10 i
10–12), whereupon grains ceased to grow, cattle and people became barren, a
great drought occurred, among the consequences of which is that ‘trees dried
up’ (GIŠ ḫi.a-ru ḫāzta) as well as springs and so on (KUB 17.10 i 14–20). The
gods grew concerned and began to search for Telipinu; and the Sun-god sent
an eagle to seek the god gone into hiding, but with no success (KUB 17.10 i
21–29). The Storm-god then takes counsel with Ḫannaḫanna, the old Mother-
goddess figure, who dispenses sage advice and who will successfully locate
the hiding place of Telipinu. This she does by sending out a bee to find the
god. As is made clear in version 2 of the myth, the bee stings the god and
rouses him from his hiding place, and then wipes the god with wax (KUB 33.5
ii 4–9).
What then follows in the documentary sources is a record of a ritual proce-
dure, including enunciations, designed to appease, purify, and return the god
to a state of proper order. Various sympathetic procedures are utilized involv-
ing materials such as, among others, ‘malt’ (BULÙG) and ‘barm’ (?; BAPPIR),
fruits and nuts, grains, honey, butter, oil—and accompanied by utterances in-
voking Telipinu to be of a similar pleasant nature (KUB 17.10 ii 3–32). Telipinu’s
thundering, fulgural anger is then foregrounded as he begins an angry return;
and, at the direction of Kamrušepa, more ritual measures are taken, entailing
the burning of sheep’s wool (on which see Melchert 2016: 212–214) and wood

(KUB 17.10 ii 33–36 and iii 1–23). Next is an enunciation to the god (KUB 17.10
iii 24–27):8
dTe-li-pí-nu-uš…kar-pí-in…tar-na…kar-di-mi-[ya-at-ta-an…tar-na]
ša-a-u-wa-ar…tar-na…nu…ma-a-aḫ-ḫa-an…GIŠŠEN-aš…a[-ap-pa pár-za ]
Ú-UL…ar-ši!-e-ez-zi…dTe-li-pí-nu-wa-aš-ša…k[ar-pí-iš…kar-di-mi-ya-az]
ša-a-u-wa-ar…a-ap-pa…QA-TAM-MA…le-e…ú[-ez-zi]
O Telipinu, abandon fury! Abandon anger!

Abandon rage! Then as a drainpipe backwards
Does not flow, let Telipinu’s fury, anger,
Rage likewise not come back.
3 Near Eastern Dying Gods of Vegetation
In Adonis Attis Osiris, volume 5 of his Golden Bough, Sir James Frazer, following
in part Mannhardt (1877.2: 273–295), championed the idea that the pantheons
of Egypt and the Near East were populated with dying/rising gods—Attis,
Adonis, Tammuz, Osiris—whose cyclic descent into death and ascent into life
gave deified metaphorical expression to the annual vegetative cycle. These
gods are closely affiliated with a goddess of fertility, a Mother-goddess figure, as
consort. Frazer contended that through ritual performance associated with the
gods, worshipers assisted the deity “who was the principal of life, in his strug-
gle with the opposing principle of death” (1922: 5: 4). Frazer continued regard-
ing the worshippers of such a god: “The ceremonies which they observed for
this purpose were in substance a dramatic representation of the natural pro-
cesses which they wished to facilitate; for it is a familiar tenet of magic that you
can produce any desired effect by merely imitating it.”
The thesis was notably taken up and expanded by Theodore Gaster in his
1950 work entitled Thespis (revised in 1961). In the first part of the book, Gaster
constructed what he called a “typical seasonal ceremony” of the Near East
(pp. 61–76) and described the “seasonal pattern” of the affiliated myths
(pp. 77–106). Part two of the work is an examination of particular “seasonal
myths” of the Near East, including those of the “disappearing god type”
8 The edition is that of Laroche 1965. An online edition (Rieken et al. 2009) can be found at
http://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/txhet_myth/exemplar.php?xst=CTH%20
324.1&expl=&lg=DE&ed=E.%20Rieken%20et%20al, which varies minimally from the La
roche text for the pertinent sections.

590 Woodard
(pp. 270–376). Included here are the Hittite myth of the disappearance of Te-
lipinu (pp. 295–315) and the structurally related myth of the disappearance of
the Sun-god (CTH 322), which Gaster called “A Hittite Yuletide Myth” (pp. 270–
294).9 But he also includes the Ugaritic myth of Aqhat (pp. 316–376), a narra-
tive work that climaxes in the murder of Aqhat, its effects, and the avenging of
his death.10 As opposed to a “seasonal myth”, it has more recently been de-
scribed as “a complex saga depicting life as it was recalled in days of long ago.
Concern with fertility is part of this picture, but only part” (Coogan and Smith
2012: 32).
More recent scholarship has largely come to reject these Frazerian models,
and with a few exceptions investigators no longer deem the claimed category
of the dying/rising vegetative god to exist as a category.11 Walter Burkert was an
influential figure among Classical scholars in the rejection of the Frazerian
category,12 arguing (Burkert 1979: 100) that “it is in the allegorical writers of late
antiquity that Adonis is said to represent ‘spring’ or ‘crops,’ and Attis, Osiris,
and Persephone are all treated in the same way” (see pp. 187–188, nn. 4–7 for
citation of “allegorical” authors). To these can be added Marduk and Tammuz
(see, inter alia, von Soden 1955 and Gurney 1962). Burkert points out that the
“central feature” of the cults associated with these gods is death, adding that
(p. 101) “[t]he evidence for resurrection is late and tenuous in the case of Adon-
is, and practically nonexistent in the case of Attis; not even Osiris returns to
real life, but instead attains transcendent life beyond death.” In an influential
work of the later twentieth century, Marcel Detienne (1994) argues that Adonis
is a “fruitless,” “sterile,” “impotent” figure as revealed in the ritual acts of gar-
dening in miniature pots performed during the festival of the Adonia (see es-
pecially pp. 101–109), writing, for example (p. 103), that:
…the gardening of Adonis stood for a negation of the true cultivation of

plants and was an inverted form of the growing of cereals as represented,
in a religious context, by the principal power responsible for cultivated
plants, namely Demeter.
9 Compare Macqueen (1959: 173–174), who operates with the Frazerian category of dying/
rising god (174n12), but who rejects identifying Telipinu as such a deity.
10 On the myth, see Parker 1997: 50.
11 For a throwback to these earlier treatments, see recently Ballentine (2015: 200 n. 8), who
draws Telipinu into the circle of dying/rising gods, framing her comments in terms of the
Frazerian category. See also Casadio 2003.
12 Works prior to Burkert contesting the category include Colpe 1969 and Will 1975. On
Adonis, see also, inter alia, Detienne 1994; Versnal 1998: 104–105. The Frazerian category is
unsurprisingly still current for some investigators, as for Mettinger (2001).

Also recently, the attributions of the “dying/rising” gods attested in cults

of late antiquity have been viewed as taking shape under the influence of
Christianity.13
A better case for a Near Eastern deity reflecting the vegetative cycle is that
provided by the Canaanite storm-god Baal as he appears in the Ugaritic textual
tradition. Gaster was of course an influential exponent of that view in his
aforementioned work on seasonal rituals (see Gaster 1961: 114–129), with vari-
ous other investigators following on from that work,14 notably de Moor (1971).15
The notion that Baal is a “dying/rising” god has thus been championed by
some, while others have rejected the idea. The positions taken are at least in
part bound up with the problem of the Frazerian category, of course. Barstad
(1984), for example, rejects the category of the dying/rising god, rehearsing
some of the relevant scholarship, and concludes regarding the disappearance
of Baal that (pp. 150–151) “in this myth…scholars have found yet another ex-
ample of a dying and rising deity in the Ancient Near East. Against the back-
ground of the above [i.e. the rejection of the Frazerian category], however, this
interpretation can scarcely be maintained.” As the conclusion is presented,
however, it seems to entail a non sequitur. The nonexistence of a category of
gods does not obviate the possibility of some single occurrence, or sporadic
occurrences, of such a deity.16 But Barstad comes closer to the heart of the mat-
ter when he goes on to state:
Any attempt to interpret the difficult Ugaritic myths today will have to
take into account not only the Ugaritic myths, but the whole mythic
world of the Ancient Near East in order to try to work out the structure
and the meaning of these myths. As the theme of the disappearing god is
fairly common in Ancient Near Eastern myths, the occurrence of this
theme in the Ugaritic myths should be viewed also in the light of the
other, related myths.
13 See Bremmer 2014: 152–154, with bibliography.

14 See the discussion of Smith 1994: 60–75.
15 de Moor (1971: 9–28) summarizes the works of proponents and opponents of the idea at
the time of his writing. See more recently Barstad 1984: 148–151.
16 Thus Gurney already in 1962 takes a dismissive view of the category of the dying/rising
god, but he draws attention to the tradition of the rising of the Mesopotamian god Nergal
(“not a fertility god”) from the underworld (following Landsberger’s [1949: 274] solar inter-
pretation) and concludes (p. 158): “Here we have perhaps the best evidence for a seasonal
resurrection (at midwinter)….” Notice that Smith (1998: 310, contra Gurney) concedes
“that Dumuzi may be regarded as a disappearing fertility god (or at least divinized figure)
whose mythology describes him as dying,” and even regarding Adonis and Melqart “that
future discoveries could prove Frazer and his followers correct.”

592 Woodard
He here makes no explicit reference to the Hittite traditions of the disappear-

ing god, but presumably it is these that he has conspicuously in mind. Smith
(1994: 70) makes the point explicitly,17 writing: “Indeed, it might be argued that
Baal shares less with Tammuz and Adonis than with the Hittite disappearing
gods, the Storm-god and his son, Telepinu.”18
If one steps away from the quagmire that surrounds the Frazerian category,
one can observe that prima facie elements of a dying Baal and a subsequently
living Baal surely present themselves at Ugarit. Thus, in the episode of the Baal
cycle of KTU 1.5–1.6, we find the account of Baal’s descent into the maw of
Death, his subsequent ascension from that domain, and an envisioned cyclic
recurrence of the event. In summary, the Ugaritic textual tradition, pocked by
lacunae, unfolds as follows (the translated text is that of Coogan and Smith
2012).
In KTU 1.5, we read that Baal has slain his enemy Litan (Biblical Leviathan),
presented here as a seven-headed dragon. As a consequence, there has arisen
what appears to be a cosmic drought: “the heavens have withered”; and Baal’s
fate is to descend into the “watery depths” of insatiable Mot, that is ‘Death’,
presented as a son of the sovereign Canaanite deity El (KTU 1.5 i 1–35). Baal
must descend within death “like a dried olive | the earth’s produce, the fruit of
the trees.” A fearful Baal sends intercessory messengers to Mot, declaring that
he (Baal) is the servant of Mot, whose dwelling place is called hmry the ‘swamp’
and mk the ‘sunken place’ (KTU 1.5 ii 1–24). But Baal cannot avoid his fate. Fol-
lowing the fragmentary columns iii and iv, the text presents Mot as command-
ing Baal to descend into the earth’s depths, declaring that “the gods will know
that you have died” (KTU 1.5 v 4–17). First, however, Baal will have repeated
intercourse with a cow, which conceives a son (KTU 1.5 v 18–25). In the last
17 See also Smith (1998: 291–294), though on p. 308 he draws a distinction between the Hit-
tite and Ugaritic traditions: “The storm-gods of Hatti disappear, sleep and return as they
wish; it was viewed as their choice, and ritual propitiation was thought to be required to
incur their return. In contrast, Baal does not choose to disappear.” It is true that the Hittite
deities disappear of their own volition, but external forces recover them.
18 Smith here cites Kapelrud 1952: 38–39; Gaster 1961: 215; Parker 1989a: 295–95 [sic]; 1989b:
186–187. Smith (1994: 71) argues that the Ugaritic text does not state that Baal is brought
back to life, interpreting the phrase ḥy )aliyn b(l (KTU 1.6 iii 2, 8, 20 [not I 2, 8, 20 as cited
by Smith]) as ‘Mightiest Baal lives’ (the translation that appears in Smith 1997); the god,
however, is clearly depicted as ‘living’ after having been ‘dead’. This phrase ḥy )aliyn b(l in
its three occurrences is coupled to the phrase kiṯ zbl b(l arṣ (found in lines 3, 9, 21), which
Smith translates as ‘The Prince, Lord of the Earth, is alive’. Compare with this the transla-
tion of lines 3 and 9 by Coogan and Smith (2012: 148): ‘The Prince, the Lord of the Earth,
has revived’ (the translation of line 21 is unchanged from the 1997 work). See also Smith
1998: 289–309. Gaster also draws attention to the similarity of Baal to Telipinu in his 1973
follow-up to his earlier work (see p. 341 with n. 9).

column of this tablet we find the declaration “Baal the Conqueror is dead”
(KTU 1.5 vi 9, 23) and read, both here and in the first column of the ensuing
tablet (KTU 1.5 vi 15–1.6 i 29), how El and Anat, sister of Baal, mourn for the
dead god, of their grieving self-mutilation, and of Anat’s burial of Baal on
Mount Zaphon (site of a Baal cult center), accompanied by multiple sacrifices
of both domesticated and wild animals (wild oxen and deer). Following a nar-
rative in which El tells his wife, Asherah of the Sea, to send one of her sons to
take the place of Baal (KTU 1.6 i 39–65) and an additional gap in the text, we
find Anat demanding that Mot return her brother Baal to her. Anat then at-
tacks Mot with a sword and slays him; the description of the violence she com-
mits against Mot clearly echoes the processing of grain19 (KTU 1.6 ii 32–35):
bḫṯr.tdry/nn With a sieve she winnowed him;

bišt.tšrpnn/ With fire she burned him;
brḥm.tṭḥnn With millstones she ground him;
bšd/tdr(.nn In the fields she sowed him.
What follows is a description of a dream vision of El, the first portion of which
is lost. El declares that if Baal should be “revived,” then (KTU 1.6 iii 12–13):
šmm.šmn.tmṭrn/ The heavens rain down oil,

nḫlm.tlk.nbtm The wadis run with honey.
El instructs Anat to go to the Sun and ask “Where is Baal the Conqueror?”; she
does so and the Sun agrees to seek out Baal (KTU 1.6 iii 22–iv 24). When the
text resumes after another gap, Baal is again among the living. He attacks the
sons of Asherah, tramples Mot underfoot, and returns to his throne to occupy
it for seven years (KTU 1.6 v 1–8). But in the seventh year Mot appears before
Baal and delivers an angry declaration (KTU 1.6 v 11–19):
(lk/pht.šrp.bišt Because of you I experienced burning with fire;

(lk.[pht.ṭḥ]n.brḥ/m. Because of you I experienced grinding with
millstones;
([lk.]pht[.dr]y.bkbrt Because of you I experienced winnowing with
a sieve;
(lk[.]pht.[]l[]/bšdm. Because of you I experienced scattering in the
fields;
[(l]k[.]p[ht]/dr(.bym. Because of you I experienced sowing in the sea.
19 See the comments of Coogan and Smith (2012: 107).

594 Woodard
In what remains of the final column of the tablet, Baal and Mot are described
as locked in combat, with Baal seemingly having the upper hand after the Sun
deity’s verbal intervention on his behalf (KTU 1.6 vi 16–35). But then, following
a space of unintelligible text, Baal is perhaps again in the world of the dead
(KTU 1.6 vi 42–53), as the text comes to an end (marked by a colophon). Re-
gardless of the final scene, it seems reasonably clear that Baal and Mot cycli-
cally engage in a struggle that reflects periodic drought and its consequences
for agricultural production—when oil does not rain from heaven and honey
does not flow in wadis.
4 Adaptation of the Indo-European Tradition to the Near Eastern
If there are similarities to be seen between the Ugaritic tradition of the dying/
rising Baal and the Hittite tradition of the disappearing god—and there are—
the elements of the Hittite tradition, as a set, notably replicate the structural
matrix of the primitive Indo-European myth of the dysfunctional warrior. Es-
pecially striking are the parallels between the myth of the disappearance of
Telipinu et al. and the flight of Indra. Let us again consider the component ele-
ments of the Indo-European dysfunctional warrior tradition, using its Indic
reflex as specific comparandum.
(1) The Crisis of the Warrior

Indra, the thunderbolt-wielder, achieves his greatest combat deed: the deed of
the Vṛtrahan, the slaying of the drought-bringing, cattle-thieving dragon. He
does so only to fall into crisis: fear grips the heart of the mighty warrior Indra,
and he, in a disordered, traumatic state, flees and disappears from society.
As we have it, the myth of the disappearance of Telipinu, a thunderbolt-
wielder, begins in crisis with a description of the onset of a disordered state:
‘mist takes the windows’; ‘smoke takes the house’; and ‘burning logs’, ‘altars of
the gods’, ‘sheep’, and ‘cattle’ are all ‘put out of order’. In the midst of such a
state, Telipinu flees and disappears from society.
(2) Movement across Space to a Distant Locale

Indra flies away—‘like an eagle’ according to Rig Veda 1.32, traversing the atmo-
spheric spheres (rajāṃsi). Mahābhārata 5 fills out the account: Indra’s flight
takes him beyond the north face of the sacred Himalaya range to a luxuriant
space teeming with trees, vines, flowers, birds, and bees (5.14.5–9). In stark
contrast to the rich lushness of this space, the land that Indra has deserted has
fallen into a ruinous state from which fertility and fecundity have vanished: the

earth is parched, trees die, rivers cease to flow, lakes go dry. The gods are terri-
fied and seek desperately for a remedy (5.10.46–50). The first course of action
that the assembled gods take—to make Nahuṣa king in Indra’s place—is an
ineffectual act that only adds to the crisis (as in 5.11.1–12.9).
Telipinu sets out (iyannāi-) for the ‘steppe’ (gimra-), to the ‘marsh’
(marmar(r)a-)—which is depicted as a space of fecund abundance, since to
that place Telipinu has carried grain, ‘animal fertility’ (dImmarni), ‘growth and
increase’ (šalḫiyanti- mannitti-),20 ‘abundance’ (išpiyatar-). Consequently, and
in stark contrast, the place that Telipinu has left behind is one in which ‘barley
and spelt’ (ḫalki- ZÍZ-tar) do not grow; cows, sheep, and humans do not be-
come pregnant; and those that are pregnant do not give birth. Mountains and
trees dry up, and ‘buds’ (paršdu- [chd P: 191]) do not come forth from them.
Pastures and springs also dry up. A famine occurs, and both humans and gods
perish from hunger (KUB 17.10 i 10–20). The Storm-god announces to the as-
sembled gods that the crisis of fecundity has come about because his son
Telipinu had become ‘enraged’ (šāi-). The first course of action that the gods
take—to search for Telipinu themselves, to send out an eagle, to send out the
Storm-god—is ineffectual.
(3) Application of Waters to the Warrior

In the Indo-European tradition of the dysfunctional warrior, immersion within
watery space is fundamental to the warrior’s retreat and/or his recovery. In the
case of Indra, the warrior lies hidden within a lake; he is encased within vegeta-
tion, having grown tiny and descended into the stalk of a lotus. He will arise
from that watery space upon his recovery. That recovery happens as the divine
priest Bṛhaspati (‘Master of Prayer’) hymns the tiny, hidden Indra and by his
enunciation causes the god to emerge from the watery vegetation that sur-
rounds him. Bṛhaspati calls upon the god to assume again his role as protector
and to regain ‘power’ (balam), which he does (Mahābhārata 5.16.14–20).
Telipinu has gone into the marsh and ‘blended’ (ulišta) himself with it, en-
cased in vegetation, covered over by the ḫalenzu- plant (KUB 17.10 i 10–12). The
process of his recovery begins when the god is located by Ḫannaḫanna’s sting-
ing bee and emerges from the marsh—though not pacified (KUB 33.5 ii 4–9).
Telipinu is appeased only after ritual interventions at the direction of
Kamrušepa, she who is typically characterized as goddess of healing and
magic.21 As we saw (KUB 17.10 iii 24–27), Telipinu is prayerfully invoked to
20 On this recurring combination, see Melchert 1993: 137 and 186; chd Š: 92.
21 “And this is so because it is she who creates the rituals, which then become available to
man. These rituals are justified by the fact that in illo tempore they were celebrated by the

596 Woodard
abandon ‘fury’ (karpi-), ‘anger’ (kartimiyatt-), ‘rage’ (šāwar)—an enunciation

directly opposite to Bṛhaspati’s call to Indra to become forceful once again, to
be a warrior, specialist in the application of combat rage. We can see, however,
that Kamrušepa’s invocation is at the same time fully consistent with the prim-
itive Indo-European tradition of the dysfunctional warrior when we recall that
in the various attested expressions of that tradition the warrior’s dysfunction-
ality is of two types: (1) the warrior abandons society; (2) the warrior cannot
relinquish his rage following combat. The latter dysfunctionality is that, for
example, of the Irish CúChulainn, who turns his burning ferg against his own
people and must be robbed of it through a procedure that involves enuncia-
tion and repeated immersions of the warrior in vats of cold water. Telipinu’s
scenario is particularly reminiscent of the case of Semo Sancus/Hercules, who,
following his triumph over the Palatine monster Cacus, flees in a desiccated
rage to the luxuriant Aventine grove of the goddess Bona Dea and amidst the
spring waters of that space of rich vegetation and birdsong is quenched of his
warrior fury (Propertius 4.9).22
(4) Clairvoyant Feminine Who Facilitates the Warrior’s Return to

Functionality
The process of recovering Indra from his watery space of retreat, and of an
ensuing return to order, begins when his hiding place is discovered by Upaśruti,
a spirit of divination having a name that denotes ‘oracular voice’ and one
whom Śacī, Indra’s wife invokes through her worship of the goddess Night
(Mahābhārata 5.14.5–12).23 As in the Indic account, the sagacious, clairvoyant
feminine typically serves as a figure who mediates the warrior’s recovery, one
who bridges spatial distance that exists consequent to the warrior’s crisis of
functionality. Upaśruti divines Indra’s hiding place and, together with Śacī, tra-
verses the space that separates them from the hidden god.
The process of recovering Telipinu from his marshy space of retreat, and of
an ensuing return to order, begins when his hiding place is discovered by the
bee that Ḫannaḫanna sends out. This ‘Great Grandmother’s’ sagacity appears
to be on display here as the Storm-god turns to her for counsel (KUB 17.10 iii
29).24 That the Fate-goddesses (Gulšeš) and Ḫannaḫanna not infrequently ap-
pear together is well known:25 In Ḫannaḫanna’s role as a goddess fixing divine
goddess”: so Archi (1993: 407), who references Goetze 1957: 134; Laroche 1947: 67–68; and
Gurney 1976: 16 with n. 5, for the notion of Kamrušepa as goddess of healing and magic.
22 See Woodard 2006, especially pp. 195–206 and 211–219.
23 See Woodard 2013: 203.
24 See Kellerman 1987: 114.
25 See, inter alia, Archi 2013: 8–11.

and human destinies—her essential function in the view of Kellerman (1987:

129)—there is certainly an indication of clairvoyance. Unlike Upaśruti,
Ḫannaḫanna does not herself travel through space to confront the hidden war-
rior; instead, she sends a bee. For Archi (2008: 177–178), however, “the bee rep-
resents Ḫannaḫanna,” goddess present at birth, the beginning of life, as it (the
bee) stings and rouses Telipinu from a “death-like” sleep.
At this point, however, one might suggest that some departure of the myth
of the disappearance of Telipinu from the canonical form of the mythic tradi-
tion of the dysfunctional warrior can be detected. Normally affiliated with the
clairvoyant feminine in the various expressions of that primitive Indo-
European tradition is an erotic feminine, or a collection of such erotic figures.
Such figures embodying sensuality and the potentiality of fertility belong to
that realm of early Indo-European social ideology that Benveniste calls “la
classe des cultivateurs” and Dumézil “la troisième fonction.”26 In Indic tradi-
tion, as suggested above, the role of the erotic feminine is played by Śacī, wife
of Indra. In the case of CúChulainn and Semo Sancus/Hercules, it is a troop of
nude women, as similarly elsewhere (see Woodard 2013: 130–201). In the case of
Nart poetic epic, the two figures—clairvoyant feminine and erotic feminine—
are elided into a single figure, the sagacious sorceress and seductive temptress
Satana, crucially involved in the recovery of the warrior Batraz. The same amal-
gamation can be seen in the case of the Roman ritual aetiology of the festival of
the Nonae Caprotinae, in which the woman named Tutula serves as both a
mediating figure of cunning and a member of an erotic band.27 It would be
easy enough to identify Ḫannaḫanna, in the structure of the myth of the disap-
pearance of Telipinu, as somewhat similarly elided. She is both sagacious god-
dess and—if not an erotic figure—one who is no less ideologically linked to
the realm of fertility and fecundity (“la classe des cultivateurs”, “la troisième
fonction”) via her role as Mother-goddess, and thus naturally appropriated in
giving evolved syncretistic Hittite expression to inherited Indo-European myth.
(5) Return to Order

In Indic tradition, as in other reflexes of the primitive myth of the dysfunc-
tional warrior, the recovery and restitution of the warrior brings a return to
a state of order. Following Indra’s reacquisition of his ‘power’ (balam) and
the downfall of Nahuṣa, order is restored to society and Indra in effect re-
inaugurated as king.
26 See, inter alia, Benveniste 1969: 1: 279–292 and Dumézil 1958. See also Woodard 2013:
10–15.
27 See Woodard 2013: 160, 208–210, 211–215.

598 Woodard
In the myth of the disappearance of Telipinu, there is equally a restoration

of order. The narrative as we have it begins with a dissolution of order: ‘mist
takes the windows’; ‘smoke takes the house’; and ‘burning logs’, ‘altars of the
gods’, ‘sheep’, and ‘cattle’ are all ‘put out of order’; and Telipinu leaves to disap-
pear within the space of the marsh (KUB 17.10 i 5–15). The narrative ends with
the return of Telipinu to his house and the reversal of disordering (KUB 17.10 iv
20–26): ‘mist released the windows’; ‘smoke released the house’; the ‘altars of
the gods were put in order’ (ḫandantati; see Melchert 2016: 215–216, comparing
KUB 33.19 iii 2–7); and so on.
Both in overall structure and in specific constituent elements of that struc-
ture, the primitive Indo-European myth of the dysfunctional warrior and the
Hittite myth of the disappearance of Telipinu show remarkable agreement.
But the Hittite tradition is not concerned with the flight of a traumatized war-
rior from society, such as that of the thunderbolt-wielder Indra, or with a
warrior whose rage is turned against his own society, such as CúChulainn. The
myth of Telipinu is instead concerned with the departure from society of a god
whose role it is to promote fertility and fecundity, though one who also exhib-
its certain storm-god characteristics. The Telipinu myth is also sufficiently
reminiscent of the death and revivification of the storm-god Baal in Ugaritic
tradition so as to suggest to some previous investigators a similarity between
the two that is opposed to the various expressions of dying gods found
elsewhere in the Near East and the Mediterranean. What are we to make of
all this?
The myth of the disappearance of Telipinu must surely be a syncretistic—
that is, synthetic—tradition. Clearly there are Hattic substrate elements
involved. This syncretistic Hittite mythic tradition of the disappearing god pre-
serves the structural frame and features of ancestral Indo-European myth
while reassigning the inherited tradition to local cult patterns. A syncretistic
Hattic-Indo-European tradition, if not a more homogeneously preserved form
of the primitive Indo-European myth of the dysfunctional warrior,28 must have
at some moment in the third millennium bc encountered storm-god tradi-
tions spreading out of Syria. Influence of one tradition upon the other should
not be unexpected. Such an expectation presumes the existence of a kind of
“religious Sprachbund” encompassing northern Syria and contiguous portions
of Anatolia. On general grounds this is a non-controversial assertion.
28 One might reasonably suggest that the myth of the disappearance of Telipinu, with its
pronounced similarities to the myth of the dysfunctional Indra, provided an Indo-
European template on the basis of which the various other myths of disappearing Hittite
deities were modeled.

In a study of Near Eastern storm-gods, Green (2003: 156) reports that the
earliest images of the Syrian storm-god are found in Anatolia rather than in
Syria, dating to the twentieth and nineteenth centuries bc.29 And after discuss-
ing the evolving iconography of the Syrian storm-god, Green (2003: 159)
concludes:
Given the geographic continuum from southeastern Anatolia down into

Syria and given the history of cultural diffusion and ethnic movement
between these regions after the Early Bronze Age, it is reasonable to con-
clude that the complex images of the Syrian Storm-god reflect a develop-
ing synthesis or fusion of different religious traditions.
In these Anatolian representations of the Syrian storm-god, he is regularly ac-

companied by a nude female figure, and typically by a serpent in the earlier
images. The serpent continues to occur subsequently on seals, which in some
instances depict the god driving a spear-like device down into the throat of the
serpent.30 The iconography, like the Telipinu myth, is highly reminiscent of
the tradition of the thunderbolt-wielder Indra’s victory over the dragon Vṛtra,
and of his recovery following his traumatized disappearance, facilitated by the
erotic feminine.
When the Indo-Europeans arrived in Anatolia they brought with them their
myth, and no doubt associated rituals, of the warrior who has ceased to per-
form his proper function—traditions which must have had their origins in ac-
tual experience of post-combat trauma (see Woodard 2013: 238–268). In terms
of Indo-European ideology, the myth and rituals involved are assertions of a
power that the realm of fertility wields over the specialist in the application of
destructive might: it is feminine representatives of the fecund realm (typically
personified as a nude or otherwise erotic element) that are centrally responsi-
ble for disarming and restoring the warrior to a condition in which physical
force is rightly applied. With the cultural synthesis of southwest Asian and In-
do-European societies, which unmistakably occurred after the Indo-European
arrival in Anatolia, there must have been some mutual accommodation of the
broadly attested Indo-European myth of the dysfunctional warrior and tradi-
tions of a Syrian warrior storm-god. One outcome may well have been the
translation of the traumatized warrior and his recovery from a watery place of
retreat into the figure of a dying/rising storm-god, such as that best evidenced
in the Ugaritic Baal Cycle.
29 On iconographic matters, see also Schwemer 2008: 31–36. Schwemer is nebulously, and for
the present study inconsequentially, critical of Green.
30 See Green 2003: 157–160; see also pp. 133–134.

600 Woodard
Abbreviations
KTU Keilschrifttexte aus Ugarit
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Chapter 33
Foreign Medical Knowledge in Ḫattuša:

The Transmission and Reception of Mesopotamian
Therapeutic Texts in the Hittite World
Valeria Zubieta Lupo
Abstract
This contribution focuses on the presence of Mesopotamians and Mesopotamian

medical therapeutic texts, as well as their reception in Hittite medical knowledge. The
paths of transmission and possible patterns of apprenticeship will be analyzed on the
basis of Akkadian prescriptions found at the Hittite capital.
Keywords
Hittite medicine – Akkadian – prescription – transfer of knowledge
1 Introduction
The transmission of knowledge among peoples and cultures of the Ancient

Near East was a common phenomenon, and medical knowledge was no excep-
tion at the Hittite court.1 Although the corpus of therapeutic texts at Ḫattuša is
small in comparison with other Mesopotamian archives, it offers multifaceted
evidence for the circulation and reception of Mesopotamian medical knowl-
edge within the Hittite world.
A central point of the study of Hittite medicine has been the assumption
that its origins lay in the circulation of physicians and medical cuneiform
scripts from Mesopotamia.2 The bases on which this hypothesis has been
founded are mainly the Sumerian and Akkadian documents of therapeutic
1 See Beckman 1983. On Mesopotamian therapeutic texts in Ḫattuša, see Beckman 1987–1990:
630; Schwemer 2013: 146.
2 See Güterbock 1962: 109–111 and also Beckman 1987–1990: 631. For a list of Mesopotamians in
Ḫatti, see Beckman 1983: 108.

604 Zubieta Lupo
ature that have come down to us among the tablets and fragments found at
n
Boǧazköy, as well as the intensive network of diplomatic relations—especially
during the second millennium bc—that resulted in transmission of texts and
knowledge.3 Indeed, as is already well known, the presence of foreign physi-
cians at the court of Ḫatti is mentioned in diplomatic correspondence.4 In a
letter to the Kassite king Kadašman-Enlil ii, Ḫattušili iii mentions two medi-
cal missions sent from Babylon, one during his reign and another during that
of Muwatalli: the king explains that the expert sent to him had been seized by
disease and eventually died (KBo 1.10 Rev. 34–41), while the one sent during
Muwatalli’s reign had instead become established in Ḫatti (KBo 1.10 Rev. 42–
48). This document is particularly interesting: it indicates that physicians sent
from Babylonia or Assyria could have decided to stay in Ḫatti, practice their
occupation, probably train Anatolian students (and perhaps also their own
children) in their expertise,5 and ultimately start a family.6 Therefore, the pres-
ence of medical texts raises the following questions: if the texts were originally
composed in Ḫattuša, were the authors those foreign specialists, Anatolians
trained by them, or scribes that copied the text as a school exercise? If the texts
were composed outside the capital, how did they arrive there, and to which
tradition do they belong?
To recap, the reception of Mesopotamian medical knowledge could have
reached central Anatolia by direct importation from Assyria and Babylonia
or been transmitted via intermediaries.7 The first case would mainly have
3 Zaccagnini 1983: 250–251.

4 Beckman 1999: 137–138 (Nr. 22G), 138–143 (Nr. 23); Edel 1994: 16–19 (Nr. 2), 170–171 (Nr. 71),
178–181 (Nr. 75); see also Güterbock 1962: 110; Beckman 1983: 106–108 with literature, 1987–
1990: 631; Couto-Ferreira 2013: 412.
5 Compared to the process of training and learning cuneiform and the two main Mesopota-
mian languages (Sumerian and Akkaddian); see Beckman 1983. See also Schwemer 2013: 146
n. 8 (with comprehensive bibliography).
6 In contrast, there is no evidence of Egyptian doctors sent to the Hittite capital who eventu-
ally established themselves similarly to their Mesopotamian counterparts (for more exten-
sive discussion, see Edel 1994: 31–50). Hence, their special knowledge was most likely not
transmitted to the locals. The reason for this phenomenon can perhaps be traced back to the
fact that, according to the available sources, Egyptian specialists were explicitly requested for
specific situations (e.g. see loc.cit. 38–43). Was this knowledge exclusive to Egyptian doctors,
and therefore could be practiced only by them? These questions remain so far without
answer.
7 The mode of transmission of texts from Mesopotamia to Ḫattuša has often been addressed
by Hittitologists (Weeden 2011: 603–608 with comprehensive bibliography). The Hittites ad-
opted cuneiform writing (a Syrian cursive of the Babylonian script) sometime in the 17th
century bc from Syria (Gamkredlize 2008: 169–174; van de Hout 2010: 99–106); along with it,
acquaintance with the Mesopotamian cultural heritage was also transmitted (Klengel 1998).

Foreign Medical Knowledge in Ḫattuša 605
involved foreign individuals, in this case probably physicians such as those

mentioned in the letter KBo 1.10, who may have handed down their knowledge
through the training of new experts and may have also brought texts with
them. However, another possibility, that therapeutic texts could have been
brought back from military campaigns, remains open despite lack of evidence.
On the other hand, the transmission of knowledge via intermediaries usually
occurs through interaction with neighboring cultures. In the latter case, the
documents are usually produced locally; they could be copies of older Akka-
dian texts or complex compositions that fuse more than one tradition togeth-
er. The cultural influence of intermediaries can emerge in the structure of the
text, use of certain formulas and patterns of expressions, or Fachsprache (e.g.
specific verbs, or materia medica in medical texts).8
Like most of the epigraphic evidence found in the Hittite capital, cuneiform
texts and fragments of therapeutic nature were scattered around Büyükkale
(in all, most of the texts were found in Building A of this royal palace), Temple i,
and the so-called “house on the slope” (Haus am Hang). The find spots of these
documents, that is the so-called libraries, suggest that the Mesopotamian med-
ical texts, amongst others also representing foreign material, were kept out of
“academic interest, either educational, aesthetic or historical.”9 According to
Fincke’s analysis, almost 15% of the foreign “school texts” are medical;10 if we
consider that this is the third largest group and is preceded only by religious
(15,21%) and divination (35,31%) texts,11 it can be seen that such technical and
practical knowledge was considered valid and useful. Hence, it probably influ-
enced to some extent Hittite concepts and practices of medicine.
The medical documents found at Boğazköy represent only a part of the vari-
ous text genres that belong to the whole Mesopotamian medical corpus, which
can be divided into the following basic categories:
– Diagnostic texts: the documents of this group predict the cause of the dis-
ease and the recovery or death of the patient according to the set of
symptoms.12
The criteria for the acquisition of Mesopotamian literature differ according to text genre
(see Klinger 2005: 103–108).
8 For a more extensive discussion of the criteria for identifying cultural borrowing and
Mesopotamian tradition, see Schwemer 2013: 146–148 (with comprehensive bibliog
raphy).
9 Van den Hout 2005: 287–288.
10 Fincke 2012: 88–89.
11 Some 30% of the total amount of texts are unclassified fragments. See loc.cit.
12 See fn. 20; see also Böck 2009: 105 n. 1 (with comprehensive bibliography). For an overview
of this text genre, see Scurlock 2014: 13–271.

606 Zubieta Lupo
– Therapeutic texts: this group is composed of recipes and rituals that indi-
cate how to prepare and administer medicaments; the set of symptoms or
the diagnosed disease is also mentioned.13 This group of texts can be subdi-
vided into therapeutic series,14 therapeutic prescriptions, and therapeutic
texts with “magical elements”.15
– Pharmaceutical texts: three types of pharmacological texts can be distin-
guished: texts with descriptions of medicinal plants, their primary use and
method of preparation;16 lists of simple drugs (medicinal plants and stones)
with a description of their distinctive characteristics and possible uses;17
and the Assyrian pharmaceutical series URU.AN.NA.18
– Medical text commentaries: medical observations, word definitions, decon-
structions of logograms and much more make up these commentaries on
texts of the medical corpus.19
Those texts in the Hittite capital which are in Akkadian or reveal a Mesopota-
mian tradition are: diagnostic texts (CTH 537); incantations and rituals, which
are to be carried out in response to special crises affecting an individual or
group, such as impotence, miscarriage, witchcraft, demons and ghosts, chil-
dren’s diseases, etc. (CTH 800–806, 810, 812–813); prescriptions against eye
diseases (CTH 809), fever (CTH 811) and against unknown maladies (808).
Whether these tablets where produced by an Anatolian scriptorium or by
scribes schooled in Mesopotamia and/or directly imported from Mesopota-
mia20 can be distinguished by paleographic analysis21 or by the colophon,
13 See Böck 2009: 106 n. 2 (with comprehensive bibliography).

14 For an overview, see Scurlock 2014: 295–336.
15 The expression “magical elements” is understood here as therapeutic treatments that in-
volve amulets, prayers, incantations, rituals or other elements which indicate supernatu-
ral intervention. Problematic dichotomies such as “magic” vs.” medicine” or “irrationality”
vs. “rationality” in Hittite and Mesopotamian medicine will be avoided in this paper, as
such concepts are anachronistic for the period under study. For further discussion, see
Scurlock 1999: 69–79; Heeßel 2009: 13–14; id. 2013 (with comprehensive bibliography).
16 For an overview of this subgroup, see Scurlock 2014: 273–280.
17 For an overview, see Scurlock 2014: 281–289.
18 For an example of this text genre, see Scurlock 2014: 289–291; see also Böck 2009: 106 n. 2
(with comprehensive bibliography).
19 For an extensive discussion of this topic, see Geller 2010: 141–160 (with comprehensive
bibliography).
20 On the basis of the paleography, it is almost impossible to distinguish between tablets
that were directly imported and tablets that were locally produced by scribes schooled in
Mesopotamian scriptoria.
21 For possible criteria to determine the background of the scribes who wrote the texts, see
Schwemer 2013: 157. For an overview of the script in which each text was written, see
Schwemer 2013: 153–158. For the diagnostic texts, see Wilhelm 1994: 6–18.

where the name of the author and his affiliations (like the name of his father,
his position within the scribal hierarchy and potentially the name of his men-
tor) can be displayed.22 A compilation of the entire material gives the following
picture:23
Table 33.1 Paleographic synopsis of the Mesopotamian medical corpus found at Ḫattušaa
CTH Script Remark
800 MB. Sumerian incantations in syllabic orthography

801 NH. Sumerian incantation
MB. Bilingual incantations
802 Non-Hittite. Akkadian prescriptions for curing impotence
Ass.-Mitt. (ŠÀ.ZI.GA)
NH.
804 MB. Akkadian prescriptions for curing witchcraft-
Ass.-Mitt. induced illness
Non-Hittite
NH.
805 Ass.-Mitt. Bilingual incantations
806 NH. Sumerian and Akkadian incantations
808 NH. Akkadian prescription with Hittite and Luwian
glosses
809 Ass.-Mitt. Akkadian prescriptions for diseased eyes
Non-Hittite.
Paleographically
undetermined
810 Non-Hittite. Akkadian rituals and prescriptions for women and
babies
811 Non-Hittite. Akkadian ritual and prescriptions against fever
812 MB. Sumerian incantations in syllabic orthography
Ass.-Mitt. Bilingual incantations
MB.
Non-Hittite. Akkadian prescriptions for curing impotence
(ŠÀ.ZI.GA)
22 For an overview of the data that appears in the Hittite colophons, see Otten 1980–1983:
187–188; Karasu 2001: 252–254 (with comprehensive bibliography).
23 The Mesopotamian diagnostic texts found at Ḫattuša belong to the divinatory tradition.
Therefore, they will not be analysed within this context. For further information and an
edition, see Wilhelm 1994; see also Heeßel 2000: 330, 335.

608 Zubieta Lupo
Table 33.1 Paleographic synopsis of the Mesopotamian medical corpus found

at Ḫattušaa (cont.)
CTH Script Remark
Ass.-Mitt. Akkadian rituals against demons and ghosts

MB
Non-Hittite.
NH.
Non-Hittite. Akkadian ritual and prescriptions against fever
Non-Hittite. Akkadian love spellb
Non-Hittite. Akkadian medical fragment for toothache
813 MB. Fragment of a Sumerian medical text (?)c
Non-Hittite. Sumerian and Akkadian Incantations
NH. Bilingual incantations
Ass.-Mitt. Akkadian rituals against demons and ghosts
MB. Akkadian medical fragments
Ass.-Mitt.
Non-Hittite.
NH.
a For the data in this table, see Schwemer 2013: 153–158; see also S. Košak, hethiter.net/:hetkonk
(v. 1.94).
b Ed. from Schwemer 2004.
c Schwemer 2013: 153.
The image that results here is first of all not homogeneous: the corpus includes
rituals, incantations and prescriptions; the paleography of the texts shows that
most of them were written with variants of foreign ductus, such as Middle
Babylonian (MB), Assyro-Mittanian (Ass.-Mitt.) and other non-Hittite variants
that have not been identified; moreover, fewer manuscripts show Neo-Hittite
(NH) script. Furthermore, on the basis of the datable tablets, most documents
can be dated to the 14th–13th century bc.
The presence of texts with Neo-Hittite script indicates that these docu-
ments were reproduced, and therefore the knowledge contained within them
was transmitted and more likely reinterpreted. Their nature also suggests that
they could have been used by specialists. It is also possible that some of the
aforementioned Mesopotamian medical documents were assigned a role in

the training of scribes, but the actual use of such documents remains uncer-
tain. Nevertheless, some tablets could offer insight into the reception of Meso-
potamian medical knowledge and simultaneously shed light on the use of
Mesopotamian therapeutic texts.
2 The Reception of Mesopotamian Prescriptions
It is no secret that scribes at Hattuša experimented with the data in foreign

school texts; they reinterpreted the texts, e.g. by changing their layout and try-
ing to make sense of the information that was copied. These actions put em-
phasis on the fact that the scribal school at the Hittite capital was very active in
their attempts to recode new knowledge into their society.24 Therefore, it can
be assumed that specialists, namely physicians, would do the same when con-
fronted with foreign therapeutic texts and the new knowledge contained with-
in them.
The main characteristic of the Mesopotamian therapeutic texts is the prin-
ciple of etiology that categorizes them according to the source of evil which
was causing suffering: the ghost of a deceased person, a specific demon, the
transgression of a taboo, witchcraft, the wrath of a deity, etc. Other organiza-
tional patterns include the type of remedy used (e.g., amulet necklaces) or the
type of person concerned (e.g., infants). These were influenced by the Mesopo-
tamian imaginary and concepts of medicine, which were not always aligned
with those of their Anatolian counterparts.
Due to their pragmatic and dynamic nature, this contribution will concen-
trate only on a specific type of therapeutic texts, namely the prescriptions.
These are therapeutic texts that display a set of detailed instructions regarding
the combination of medications and medical treatment. Within the corpus of
Mesopotamian therapeutic texts in the Hittite capital, we find three corpuses
of prescriptions with the catalogue numbers CTH 808, 808 and 811. Further-
more, we have fragments of prescriptions for different sufferings, scattered
among three corpuses: CTH 812, 819 and 819. These are not a homogenous
group, because:
– they present diversified paleography;
– their prognosis and layout varies according to the type of malady;25
24 Cf. Veldhuis 2014: 26–29.

25 In contrast to the Hitttite prescriptions, which are always positive; see Burde 1974: 51–52.

610 Zubieta Lupo
– the instructions are addressed in the 2nd pers. sg.;26

– some texts are therapeutic rituals rather than basic prescriptions (in fact,
incantations are present in some texts);
– the therapeutic process is not always based in phytotherapy.
Three levels of knowledge transmission can be observed within these corpora.
The first are texts in Akkadian with non-Hittite script, which were most
certainly imported from Assyria and Babylonia. The texts of the second group
are written in Akkadian with Hittite script, hence the tablets were probably
produced in Hattuša and are most likely to have been copies adapted from
older Mesopotamian manuscripts. Finally, the third group are translations into
Hittite of Mesopotamian prescriptions. In the following, one example of each
will be given.
3 Akkadian Prescriptions in Non-Hittite Script
Most of the preserved Akkadian prescriptions belong to this group. The collec-
tion of Akkadian prescriptions for diseased eyes (CTH 809), Akkadian pre-
scriptions for curing impotence (some of CTH 812), etc.27 was mainly found
near building A of Büyükkale, indicating that these were kept in one of the
main archives of the city. Sadly, there are no criteria which could be used to
determine their possible use within the court.
Representative are the texts under CTH 809, six ophthalmological treat-
ments, of which three copies present Ass.-Mitt. script and three copies are in
an unidentified non-Hittite script. The actions described in all the texts are
in the 2nd pers. sg. These preserve the traditional original layout of Mesopota-
mian therapeutic recipes, e.g. the fragment KUB 4.5028 (see Table 33.2) is sub-
divided into five recipes against diseased eyes, that is into five paragraphs, each
between two and three lines long. The recipes are five different treatments for
the same disease, as is evident thanks to the traditional Sumerian expression
used in Mesopotamian prescriptions, KI.MIN “ditto”. Furthermore, their prog-
nosis is always positive.
26 Probably addressed to the physician who is reading them and not to the patient. The
prescriptions in Hittite describe the physicians and patient actions; see the texts in CTH
461.
27 See Table 33.1.
28 For a transliteration and translation of KUB 4.50, see Fincke 2010.

Table 33.2 Layout of KUB 4.50, an example of an Akkadian prescription found at Ḫattuša
§1’ 1’–2’ Recipe against diseased eyes: the eyes of the patient will be
rubbed and he will recover; fragmentary.
§2’ 3’–5’ Ditto: a compound of healing plants will be pulverized in a
mortar and applied to the patient’s eye in the form of “rain”.
He will recover.
§3’ 6’–7’ Ditto: a compound of healing plants will be rubbed into the
patient’s eye. He will recover.
§4’ 8’–9’ Ditto: a healing plants will be applied, probably with the
finger. The rest of the recipe is fragmentary.
§5’ 10’–11’ Ditto: a medicament will be applied, probably with the finger.
The recipe is fragmentary.
4 Akkadian Prescriptions in Hittite Script
KUB 37.1 (see Table 33.3) is a perfect example of how an Anatolian physician
confronted his own knowledge of drugs and therapeutic procedures with Mes-
opotamian medical constructus. The tablet contains various medical recipes
for a disease, unknown due to the fragmentary state of the tablet. It describes
the manufacture and application of poultices; the actions are expressed in the
2nd pers. sg. The text is written in Akkadian, but the script is the Neo-Hittite
script. Next to the Akkadian text appear sporadic annotations in Hittite and
Luwian, probably by the person that copied it. These are written in the 1st pers.
sg. and 3rd pers. sg.:29
(a) Obv. 4–6: “(For) the same (symptoms): cress, ḫašû-plant, [re]ed, roasted
cornbread, scorpion-plant, fox-vine-plant, fenugreek you pound, you boil
(them) i[n (a container of) be]er, (into a) soup you tur<n> (them) (gloss:)
he cooks it like a soup. On the same man you keep placing bandag[es]
(with the tincture).”
(b) Obv. 9: “(For) the same (symptoms): cedar, ṣalabitu-plant (gloss:) this
ṣalabitu-plant I do not know.”
(c) Obv. 15–16: “All these herbs you pound in a (wooden) mortar (gloss:) he
pounds in a mortar, you mix all together in emmer flour, …”
In the first and third glosses, the scribe seems to have doubts about the Akka-
dian expressions and terms used in the directions. Hence he explains that the
29 For a transliteration, translation and philological and linguistic commentaries, see Gius-
fredi 2012 (with comprehensive bibliography).

612 Zubieta Lupo
medicine has to be “cooked like a soup”, which probably indicates a specific set
of ideas of how a soup must be cooked. Similarly, in the third example, he ex-
plains in his own words and language what has to be done with the herbs. In
the second gloss, he directly confronts his own knowledge of medicinal plants
and observes that he is unaware of the existence of a ṣalabitu-plant. This
anomaly could influence the final effects of the therapy, so he probably had to
search for a substitute around him. Whether his doubts were later clarified
orally by Mesopotamian physicians established in the capital, or by other texts
present in the archives, remains uncertain. It is clear, though, that the text is
not a scribal exercise, and that the scribe has specialist knowledge of medicine
and pharmacology, and of medical Fachsprache in three languages: Akkadian,
Hittite, and Luwian.30
Table 33.3 Layout of KUB 37.1, an example of a copied and adapted Akkadian prescription
found at Ḫattuša
Obv.
§1 1–3 Recipe against an unclear disease: An infusion of plants will

be applied to the patient with bandages.
§2 4–6 Ditto: a compound of healing plants which are “cooked like a
soup” will be applied to the patient with bandages.
§3 7–8 Ditto: a compound of healing plants is turned into a soup, and
it will be applied to the patient with bandages.
§4 9–17 Ditto: a compound of pressed healing plants is turned into a
soup, and it will be applied to the patient with bandages.
§5 18–22 Ditto: a compound of healing plants is mixed with emmer
flour and wine and turned into a soup; finally, it will be
applied to the patient with bandages.
§6 23–27 Ditto: a compound of healing plants is mixed with emmer
flour, cooked with beer, and turned into a soup; finally, it will
be applied to the patient with bandages. (from here on the text
is too fragmentary)
§7 28–40 Ditto: a compound of healing plants is mixed with butter and
beer; it will be applied to the patient with bandages. (from here
on the text is too fragmentary)
30 Cf. Giusfredi 2012: 60–61.

Furthermore, the layout of the text seems similar to that of the first group: a
collection of recipes against the same disease, with those following the first
beginning with the Sumerian KI.MIN “ditto”. As before, the healing plants to
be used are listed, followed by the directions for their preparation. At this
point, a variation can be noted: there is no prognosis, but instead the recipe
ends with directions for the application of the prepared poultice: LÚ BI/šuāšu
taṣṣanammed “on the same man you keep placing bandages (with the tinc-
ture).” Moreover, some of the recipes are longer than those contained in
CTH 809.
5 Hittite Translations of Akkadian Prescriptions
The extent of Mesopotamian influence can furthermore be observed in a text

where Mesopotamian knowledge was adapted into a prescription written in
Hittite language. Text KBo 21.20 has been catalogued in Hethitologie Portal
Mainz as CTH 461, which stands for the so-called medical texts. It is unclear
why this text was catalogued among Hittite prescriptions, because on its re-
verse is preserved an Akkadian prayer addressed to Scorpius-Išḫara.31 The
paragraph division of the obverse is similar to that of a Hittite prescription:
each paragraph or at least every other seems to be a description of drug mixing
and treatments for one or more diseases. But if we take a closer look at the text,
we can observe a difference in the structure of the tablet and some elements
that reveal a Mesopotamian model: (a) the involvement of Mesopotamian de-
mons, such as Lamaštu; (b) the use of Dreckapotheke, such as menstruation
blood; (c) the mix of first, second and third persons; (d) rare Akkadograms; and
(e) the presence of Hurrian incantations. The first three elements can be seen
in the following extract:
Obv. 16’–18’: “If the Lamaštu (DDÌM.NUN.ME) demoness seizes a Man

every time, then [I] act as follows: [ …] Bristle (?) of a white pig, šumanza-
Plant, and selected impurity of a Woman […] and he mixes them together
with Cypress oil and it wi[th …]”
D
DÌM.NUN.ME has been identified as the Lamaštu demon, who along with
the bristle (?) of a white pig is typically found in this kind of Babylonian thera-
peutic text. The fact that the text includes a Hurrian recitation reinforces the
idea that the prescriptions belongs to a different cultural milieu. The layout is
31 For the newest transliteration and translation, see Schwemer 2013: 160–162.

614 Zubieta Lupo
in fact a mirror of the ongoing adaptation of foreign knowledge. The obverse is

a collection of recipes for different maladies; there is no sequential structure as
in the aforementioned examples, demons and divinities are mentioned, and
incantations are present. The reverse begins with a prayer, followed by a para-
graph where the diagnosis is probably indicated. Afterwards, the directions for
preparation of a medicament are listed in a new paragraph.
As seen above, this text offers different examples of how the Hittites adapt-
ed a Mesopotamian text genre to their own needs. Its tradition as a whole is
not obvious, but it can be concluded that Hurrian and Babylonian elements
are present in at least two of the prescriptions of KBo 21.20. Therefore, it is pos-
sible that this knowledge arrived in Anatolia through the intermediary of
Upper Mesopotamia and North Syria. Nevertheless, it is hard to say if this col-
lection of recipes was part of a Mesopotamian compendium that was brought
to Anatolia by a foreign expert or by interaction with neighboring cultures and
later copied, translated and adapted, or if it was part of the knowledge brought
by foreign experts and absorbed and adapted by the Hittites. Whatever the
case, this text represents the result of its interactions with the context in which
it emerged and the combination of different cultural elements. In fact, the con-
tent and structure of the text are modified when compared to Hittite or Meso-
potamian prescriptions.
6 Conclusions
The diffusion of therapeutic Mesopotamian knowledge in the Hittite world

was probably supported by Babylonian scholars present in the Hittite court,
but the significant circulation of these kinds of sources in Late Bronze Age
Ḫattuša is due to a combination of factors. The expansion of the Hittite King-
dom was characterized by an intense exchange of specialists, in which Anato-
lians also traveled to other courts and learned from what they saw. During
times of war, physicians were taken along, and they would probably transmit
and teach their treatments. In any case, it is not unreasonable to think that a
school of medicine and pharmacology was established in the Hittite capital.
Whether such a school was founded by Mesopotamian specialists must prob-
ably be left to our imagination, due to lack of evidence. The extent of influence
of Mesopotamian models on Hittite medical knowledge, and more precisely on
prescriptions, can be determined only through a comparative analysis between
the latter and Mesopotamian medical therapeutic evidence found in Ḫattuša
and outside, but the texts analyzed above are evidence of a dynamic context,
where intellectuals studied and adapted foreign knowledge to their needs.

In summary, the presence of foreign physicians in Ḫattuša—with all of its

perks and benefits—and the heterogeneous Mesopotamian therapeutic cor-
pus demonstrate that the Hittite medical practice was a complex and multi
layered phenomenon that combined various therapeutic traditions, both for-
eign (mostly Mesopotamian) and local (Hittite, Luwian, other Anatolian).
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Word Index
The alphabetical order is that conventional for the language, otherwise the Latin order is
adopted. Word forms are listed under their root, stem, or base where applicable; they are
preceded by suffixes and endings, which are alphabetized under their first segment.
I. Indo-European languages
I.1. Proto-Indo-European
The alphabetical order is that of LIV2: *a *ā *b *bh *d *dh *e *ē *ĝ *ĝh *g *gh *gu̯ *gu̯ h *H *h1 *h2
*h3 *i̯ *i *k̂ *k *k *ku̯ *l *m *n *o *ō *p *r *s *t *u̯ *u. The glides have been standardized as *i̯, *u̯
(for *y, *w), the palatals as *ĝ *ĝh *k̂, the labiovelars as *gu̯ *gu̯ h *ku̯ . Syllabic sonorants are listed
after their consonantal counterparts.
*anna- 287 *dʰĝʰém(-i) 214
*atta- 287 *dhĝhm-én 212, 302
*dʰéĝʰ-ōm 213
*bʰleh3- 209 *dʰĝʰṓm (post-PIE) 213
*bʰe-bʰl(h3)-o- 209 *dhh1s-úro- 267
*bʰe-bʰl(h3)-o-h3no- 209 *dhi-dhh1-neu- see *dheh1-
*bʰléh3-dʰlo- 209 *dhu̯ er-
*bʰleh3-dʰlo-h3no- 209 *dhu̯ r̥-né-h1-/*dhu̯ r̥-n-h1-´ 267
*bʰléh3-os- 209 *dhugh2ter- 277, 283, 284, 286, 289,
*bhodhh2- 149 290
*bhréh2ter- 285 *dhugh2tḗr 277, 4578
*bʰu̯ eh2- *dhyā- (*dhei̯H-) 328
*bʰ(u)u̯ eh2-s/t 212
*bʰéu̯ h2-e-ti 212 *-éd-h2o 153
*-(e)h2- 285
*deh3- 301 *-(e)h2- + *-ter- 285, 28516
*dek̂- *-eh2-tr̥ 262
*dók̂ei̯ (virtual) 264 *-eh2-tos 272
*dóh3-r̥ /*déh3-n- 301 *en 285
*dóh3-no- 301 *en-ter 285, 300
*dóh3-ro- 301 *n̥ tér 300
*di̯éu̯ ot- 166 *en-dhu̯ éh2-os-/*en-dhuh2-s-
*diēu̯ - 16648 201
*endhu̯ éh2-ōs 201
*-dhh2e 153 *epi-steh2- 318
*dhabhro-no- 281
*dheh1- 320, 3206 *ĝéwso- 263
*dhéh1ti 262 *ĝón-u/*ĝén-u- 197, 218
*dhi-dhh1-neu- 165, 320 *ĝn-éu̯ - 197
*dheh1(i)- 290
*dhoh1i-u- 290 *ĝʰés-or-/*ĝʰes-r-́ 197, 198
*dhén-r̥ 300 *ĝʰes-ér 197
*dhĝhém-on-/*dhĝhm-n- 213 *ĝʰés-ōr 198

620 Word Index
*ĝhós-/*ĝhés- 198 *h1obhédhh2e 153, 154

*ĝhós-to- ← *ĝhes-tó- 220 *h1pónt 170
*ĝhr̥dh-o- 267
*ĝhr̥-to- 267 *-h2 309, 310, 396, 397, 398, 399, 405, 409,
410, 411
*gi̯óu̯ h3-o- (virtual) 263 *-h2o 153, 197
*h2eh1- 308
*gʰei̯-ke 211 *h2éh1-m-er 308
*h2éh1-mōr 309
*gu̯ en(h2)- 289 *h2éh1-mr̥ 308
*gu̯ i̯éh2-/*gu̯ ih2- 218 *h2ent- 170
*gu̯ ih2-ó- 218 *h2ép-os/*h2ep-és- 216, 217
*h2ep-és(-i) 217
*gu̯ hén- *h2ep-ḗs 217
*gu̯ hén-mi 266 *h2érh3-u̯ o- 313
*gu̯ hén-to 158 *h2érh3-u̯ or 313
*gu̯ hn̥ -sk̂e- 267 *h2érh3-u̯ r̥ 313
*h2érh3-u̯ ō(n) 313
*Heu̯ - *h2érh3-u̯ ōr 313
*Heu̯ -d- 217 *(h2)h3ón-r̥ 300
*Hu̯ -éi̯e/o- 217 *h2u̯ ep-
*Hu-Hu̯ -ŕ̥s ← *He-Hu̯ -ŕ̥s 217 *h2u̯ ópei̯ (virtual) 264
*Hi̯énh2ter- 286 , 28727, 289 *h2u̯ erdh- 16135
*h2u̯ ers-
*h1ai̯- 286 *h2u̯ érs-h2/-éh2- 204
*h1ed- *h2u̯ ors-éi̯e/o- 204
*h1éd 170 *h2u̯ ors-ó-/-éh2- 204
*h1egu̯ h- 169 *h2u̯ ort-/*h2urt- 161
*h1é-gu̯ h-to 159, 160 *h2urt-oi̯-/*h2urt-i- 161
*h1gu̯ h- 160 *h2/3ésth1oi̯- 159
*h1éi̯-tr̥ /*h1i-tén- 309
*h1éi̯-tōr/*h1i-tn-és 309 *h3ér-on-/*h3r̥-n-́ 215
*h1i-tén 309 *h3ér-ō(n) 215
*h1élg-s 306 *h3r̥-to(-) 161
*h1(e)lg-s-n- 306
*h1em- 32732 *i̯éu̯ g 263
*h1es- *i̯ugé-h2 310
*h1siéh1t 17160
*h1ḗsh2-r̥ /*h1ésh2-n- 267, 309 *isn-úro- 267
*h1ésh2-ōr 309
*h1lenĝh- *k̂ei̯-
*h1lénĝhto 160 *k̂éito(ri) 152
*h1mé 267 *k̂éi̯-u̯ o-/u̯ eh2- 215
*h1m̥ mé 267 *k̂ói̯-mo- 215
*h1néh3-mn̥ 309 *k̂ói̯-no- 215
*h1néh3-mō(n) 309 *k̂enk- 469, 477, 47735
*h1n̥ -dhh2e 153 *k̂erh3- 28830
*h1obhé- 153 *k̂ér-u- 219
*h1obhéd- 153 *k̂ér-u̯ -o- 219

Word Index 621
*k̂er-u̯ -ó- 219 *méh2ter- (*máh2ter-) 286, 289

*k̂leu̯ - 322 *mei̯- 32732
*k̂m̥ta 165 *meldh- 163
*k̂m̥ta/ō 266 *men- 317, 324, 327, 32732, 32841, 32941, 330
*k̂m̥to 152 *me-mon-h2e(-i)/*me-mn̥ -h2e(-i) 326
*k̂ói̯-mo-, *k̂ói̯-no- see *k̂éi̯-u̯ o-/u̯ eh2- *mḗm-s ~ *mēms-ó- 214
*k̂ó- *mḗs 214
*k̂óm(s) 263 *mnéh2ti 262
*k̂r̥d- 162 *modhró- 266
*k̂r̥h2-s-én 306 *mou̯ koi̯e/o- (virtual) 263
*k̂r̥ngo- 267
*k̂r̥ng-id- 267 *-m̥ 267, 268
*-m̥ s 270, 271
*ken-eu̯ ó- 218 *m̥ dhró- 266
*k/k̂m̥tm̥ 32732
*kḿ̥ti 266, 2664 *-néu̯ - 263
*kór-u̯ -o- 219, 220 *ne 154
*kúrko- 267 *nebʰ-tu-h3no- 209
*nek̂- 206
*ku̯ ék̂-mr̥ 300, 308 *neku̯ - 206
*ku̯ ék̂-mōr 300, 307, *né-th2oh1 153, 154
308 *nem- 312
*ku̯ ék̂-mn̥ 308 *nem-ó- 312
*ku̯ ek̂-mn-ó- > *ku̯ ek̂-mó- 308 *nom-n-os 312
*ku̯ ék̂-mō(n) 308 *nom-ó- 312
*k e-ku̯ l(h1)-o- 209
u̯
*nóm-r̥ /*ném-n̥ -s 312
*ku̯ élh1-os/-és- 219 *nm-én 312
*ku̯ elh1-s-ó- 220
*ku̯ olh1-s-ó- 219, 220 *n̥ - 318
*ku̯ ólso- 219 *-n̥ 267
*ku̯ énku̯ e 209 *n̥ dher-steh2- 318
*ku̯ er- *n̥ k-̂ (*ŋ̥k̂-) 265
*ku̯ r̥-sk̂e- 267 *ń̥-mh2i̯ent- 265, 266
*k etu̯ óres 216
u̯
*n̥ s- 261, 265
*ku̯ ih2- 410 *n̥ tér see *entér
*ku̯ l ̥s- 267
*ku̯ olh1-s-ó-, *ku̯ ólso- see *ku̯ élh1-os/-és- *´-om 268
*-óm(s) 263
*leu̯ h3- 262 *-óms, *´-oms 270, 271, 272, 27212
*leu̯ k- *-o-to- 272
*lukoto 152 *-ōs 27212
*lóh3u̯ - 262 *obhó-
*obhóm(s) 263
*-m 411
*-men- 300, 307 *peh2- 305
*médhu- 202, 203 *péh2-u̯ r̥/-u̯ én- 305
*méĝ-h2 310 *péh2u̯ ōr/*ph2un-és 304
*méĝ-oh2- 310 *ph2(u)u̯ én 304
*meh1- 297 *ph2(u)u̯ én-s 304

622 Word Index
*pelh1- 209, 212 *sh2ei̯-món-m̥ 216

*pe-pl(h1)-o- 209 *sh2éi̯-mō(n) 198, 216
*pól(h1)-mo- 209 *(s)h2u̯ ói̯-/*(s)h2u̯ éi̯- 215
*pélth2-n/*pl ̥th2-én- 163, 16446 *sl ̥h2-eu̯ -ó- 203, 218
*peri-steh2- 318 *sólh2-u̯ o- 203
*pér-u̯ r̥ /*pr̥-u̯ én- 304 *snéh1-u̯ r̥ 300
*peru̯ n̥tos 297 *sneu̯ bh- 28832
*peth1- 204 *snusó- 287, 28727, 288
*pé-pth1-u̯ os- 204 *sók̂-r̥ /*sék̂-n- 309
*póth1-mo- 204 *sólh2-u/*sl ̥h2-éu̯ - 218, 219
*péth2-r̥ /*p(e)th2-én- 149 *spék̂-/*spek̂- 212
*peth2-u̯ l ̥ 267 *spék̂-en, *spek̂-én 212
*ph2tér- 285, 286 *spék̂-on- 212
*píH-ṷr̥ /-ṷén- 310, 311 *sr-ó 266
*piH-ṷér-ih2 310 *steh2- (*st(h)ā-) 317, 318, 319, 3207, 321, 322,
*píH-ṷōn 310, 311 323, 324, 32420, 330
*pói̯-h1i-mi, *pói̯-h1i̯- (virtual) 2697 *steh2-i̯ō 3207
*pól(h1)-mo- see *pelh1- *(s)ti-(s)th2-neu̯ - 320
*pólh1-u/*pélh1-u- 212 *(s)téh2-u̯ en(o)- 281
*póth1-mo- see *peth1- *sṷésor- 286, 287
*pr̥-dhh1-nó- 28729 *su̯ ésrm̥ 28623
*pr̥-steh2- 318 *su̯ ṓi̯-s 215
*pr̥-steno- 28729 *suH-nu-/*suH-i̯u- 286, 287
*pst-én-/*pst-n-́ 216
*pst-ḗn 216 *-t 158
*pth1/2-ói̯-ei̯ (virtual) 149 *-ter- 285, 286, 287
*putló- 286, 287 *-th2e 154, 261
*-th2e+i 154
*rót-h2/*rot-éh2- 220 *-to 158, 159
*róth2-o- 220 *temH- 210
*tēmH-ó- 210
*sed- 318 *tḿ̥H-i̯e/o- 210
*séh2u̯ l ̥/*sh2(u)u̯ én-s 304 *temH-es-ó- 218
*séh2u̯ ōl 304, 310 *témH-os/*temH-és- ←
*sék̂-ōr/*sk̂-n̥ - 309 *témH-os/*tm̥ H-és- 218
*sélh2-i-/*sl ̥h2-éi̯- 218 *terh1-
*sl ̥h2-i- 203 *térh1-tro- 203
*sl ̥h2-i-ti- 218 *tórh1-mo- 203
*senh2- 32112 *t(é)rh3- 262
*sn̥ h2-éu̯ /u- 32112 *tr̥h2u̯ n̥t-´ 262
*serdhh2/3- 162 *ti̯eh2- 16647
*s(e)r-mn̥ (virtual) 267 *toku̯ e 169
*seu̯ H- 28724 *tuH (*tū) 261, 263
*seu̯ h3- *tŭ 263
*séu̯ h3-u 263
*su-néh3-t 263 *u̯ éd- 312
*sh2éi̯-mon-/*sh2i-mén- 198, 200, 216 *u̯ ed-ó- 312
*sh2ei̯-món- 200 *u̯ ed-(e)n-, *u̯ éd-ōr, *ud-én, etc. see *u̯ ód-r̥

Word Index 623
*u̯ ei̯d- 32942 *u̯ ed-ér-s 312

*u̯ elh3- 262 *u̯ éd-n- 301
*u̯ éi̯h1-on-/ *u̯ ih1-n-́ 195, 200, 207, 212, 216, *u̯ éd-n̥ -s, *u̯ ed-én-s 304, 312
218, 219, 222 *u̯ éd-r̥-h1 312
*u̯ ei̯(h1)-no- 204, 211, 220 *u̯ éd-r̥-s 312
*u̯ ei̯h1-n-ó- 220 *u̯ éd-or 310, 311, 312
*u̯ ei̯h1-ón- 200 *u̯ éd-or-h2/*ud-n- 309, 311, 313
*u̯ éi̯h1-ō(n) 200, 212 *u̯ édō 311
*u̯ ih1-n-ó- 195, 207, 218 *u̯ éd-ōr 300, 304, 309
*u̯ ih1-on- 213, 215, 220, 221 *u̯ edṓr 309, 310, 311, 313
*u̯ ói̯(h1)-n-o- 195, 203, 204, 207, 219, 220, *ud-én 304, 311, 312
222 *ud-ér 311, 312
*u̯ e/og-eh2- 27211 *ud-r-ó- 311
*u̯ ie̯ h1- *u̯ ói̯h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ 213, 220
*u̯ ié̯ h1-ti-/*u̯ ih1-téi̯- 212 *u̯ ói̯h1-no- 214, 215, 219
*u̯ ih1-éi̯e/o- 217 *u̯ ói̯k-̂ o- 207
*u̯ ié̯ h1-/*u̯ ih1-́ 212, 213, 216, 218, 222 *u̯ ors-ó- 204
*u̯ ié̯ h1-m̥ 217 *u̯ ors-éh2 204
*u̯ ih1-én 212, 213, 216, 222 *u̯ ors-éi̯e/o- 204
*u̯ ih1-ḗn 203, 212, 216 *u̯ ōku̯ -s 206
*u̯ l ̥ku̯ ó- 220 *u̯ ŕg̥ i- 266
*u̯ élku̯ o- 220
*u̯ ód-r̥ 300, 301, 304, 312 *-uh2 263
*u̯ ed-én- 311, 312 *-ums 270, 271
*u̯ éden-o- 312 *uth2-ṓr 149
I.2. Anatolian
For the cuneiform languages, transliterations are listed together with transcriptions, but forms
beginning with Sumerograms (for Hittite) or hieroglyphs (for Hieroglyphic Luwian) are
grouped separately. Since one of the contributions investigates the contrast between the signs
TA and DA, voiceless and voiced stops are kept separate, contrary to the usual practice.
Classifiers and vowel length are however ignored for the purposes of alphabetical order. The
glides have been standardized as i̯, u̯ , the dorsal fricative as ḫ, the sibilant as š.
I.2.1. (Pre-)Proto-Anatolian *stḗn+s 216

*dǽæti > *dǽædi 262 *u̯ ēno- 214
*dégom 213 �̆
*u̯ íi̯on-/*u̯ ii̯én(-i)/*u̯ īn- 202, 213, 215
*dəgém(i) 214 *u̯ íh1-on-/*u̯ ih1-én(-i)/*u̯ ih1-n- 202, 213, 219
*h1m̥ mú 267 *u̯ íh1-ō+s, *u̯ ih1-ṓ+s 200
*h3óro+s 215
*h3er- I.2.2. Hittite
*h3rói̯ei̯ 264 -a 197
*h3ér-tor, *h3r-óntor 264 -an 267, 268
*istuwa- 4295 =an 125, 241, 246, 2519
*ma-mn- 32630 -anda- 56331
*médu 202 -an-mu 240
*sh2i-mṓ+s 216 -apa 246, 249, 250, 2519

624 Word Index
=aš 125, 169, 241 a-pa-at-ta, a-pa-a-at-ta, a-pát-ta-an, a-pád-da,

-aš (acc. pl.) 272, 27212 a-pád-da-an, apa-da-an 153,
-aš (nom. pl.) 27212 154
-ašta 246, 249, 250, 2519 āppa 324, 329, 330
=at 125, 241 āppa mema/i- 324, 325, 330
-ātar 262 appat(a)rie/a-zi
-at-mu 241 ap-pa-at-ri°, ap-pata-ri° 165
ad-da(-) 15522 ār-/ar- 356, 370, 548
āk-/akk- 265, 356 ar-ta(-ri) 161
akkurria- 193 (LÚ)ara- 388, 439
aku- arai-/ari(i̯a)- 264, 55925
a-ku-u-uš-(ša) 270, 271 argamma(n)- 4718
akuni 48 arkamman 471
a-ku-ta-al-l° 160 arkammanaliuš 471, 4718
a-ku-ta-al-li-it, a-ku-ta!-al-li-it 16034 arḫa 278, 349, 367, 372, 387, 388, 493,
a-la-ra-nu ~ ú-lu-ra-nu 36114 538
alkišta- 306 arḫa da- 538, 547
alpa- aria-zi 191
alpa 405 arinna- 55925
alpēš 405 ārk-/ark-1 356, 357
al-pu-ú-uš 271 ārk-/ark-2 356, 357
amii̯ant- 265, 266 ar-ku-u̯ a-ar [D]Ù-zi +-za 244
ammug 262, 263, 267 ārr-/ar- 356
anda 342, 537, 538 aršia- 188
an-da(-an), an-ta, an-tạ-an 153, 157 aršiēzzi (OS) ~ aršii̯azzi (OH/NS) ~
ania- (anii̯e/a-zi) 187 āršii̯aizzi (OH/NS) 177
a-ni-e-mi (OS), a-ni-ia-mi (NS) 180 aru- 55925
a-ni-ia-er (OH/NS), a-ni-i-er (MH/MS) 178 aruna- 55925
ạ-ni-ia-e-ez-zi 177, 178 aruni 546
aniēzzi (OS), anii̯azzi (NS), anii̯aēzzi aruu̯ ae-zi
(NS) 177 a-ru-u̯ a-(a-)an-zi (OS) ~ a-ru-u̯ a-en-zi
anna- 279, 28311, 287 (OS) 178, 180
an-na-al-li-ú-u[š] 270 ašnumar 307
fAnni 279 aš(ša)nu- 308
antaka 459, 465 āššu 142, 310
antarā- 266 āššū (a-aš-šu-u) 263, 310
antuḫša- 198, 201 āššuu̯ anni 348
anduḫšaš (gen.sg.) 201 ateš- 306
antuḫšaš 201 atešša- 306
antuḫšet 198 attešanaš 306
antuu̯ aḫḫaš 201 atta- 15522
antuu̯ aḫḫiš 201 attan 129
anz- 261, 265 attaš 129
apā- at-ta-aš-mi-iš 128
apedani 153 attuš 129
apel 153 a-ú-li-ú-uš, a-ú-li-ú-š(a) 270
a-pu-u-un 263, 268
a-pu-u-uš 263, 270 dā-i / d- 167, 259
a-pu-ú-uš 271 da-a-at-ta 154

Word Index 625
daḫanga 531, 533, 535, 53522, 537, 53733, 538, ḫabaimmi 533

539 ḫaḫḫima- 484, 485, 4852, 4853, 486, 4865, 487,
dai-i / ti- 167, 259, 320, 321 488, 48811, 489, 490, 491, 492, 493, 495, 496
da-a-i 236 ḫaḫḫimaš 485
ti-(ia-)an-zi (OS) ~ ti-(i-)en-zi ḫalenzu- 494, 588, 595
180 dḪalki- 281, 492, 595
dākk-/dakk- 3564 ḫalki- ZÍZ-tar 595
dākki 264 ḫalluu̯ a-
dālaizzi see lā-i / l- ḫal-lu-u̯ a-u-uš 271
du-uš-ga-ra-u-u̯ a-an-za 236 [ḫal]-lu-ú-u̯ a-u-uš 271
d]u-uš-kat-ti + -za 244 ḫaluga- 354, 355, 358
MUNUSduttarii̯ata/i- 277, 278, 279, 280, 2806, ḫal-za-it-ta 154
281, 282, 283, 290 ḫamešḫa- 308
duttarii̯ata/i- 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, ḫān-i / ḫan- 3564
283 ḫa-a-ni-ia-r° 180
MUNUS du-ut-tar-i̯a-ta-aš!-kan 2771 ḫa-an-da-an 239
duttarii̯atii̯aš 279 ḫandantati 598
duu̯ arni/a- 267 ḫannan 349
d(u)u̯ arnanzi 267 ḫant- 170
d(u)u̯ arnizzi 267 ḫa-an-ti, ḫa-an-di 170
duu̯ arnia- 190 [ḫante]zziyaš 27212
ḫantia- 193
=e 241 ḫantii̯a(i)- 178
ed-zi / ad- ḫāran- 16446
a-da-an-zi 147 ḫāranan 215
a-ta-an-zi 147 ḫāranaš 215
e-et 170 ḫāraš 16446, 215
eku-zi / aku- ḫarii̯a- 188
e-ku 169 ḫar(k)-zi 259
e-ku-ut-ta 1481, 159, 160 ḫarta 261
e-uk-ta 160 ḫark- 259
epp-zi / app- ḫarkia- 191
appan 170 ḫarnia- 191
e-ep-pu-u-un, e-ep-pu-un 268, ḫarni(n)k- 259
269 ḫarši-
eš-a(ri) / aš- ḫar-ša-a-e-eš 135
e-ša-an-ta, e-ša-an-da 158 NINDAḫar-ša-ú-uš 270
eš-zi / aš- ḫaršāu̯ ar 310
a-ša-an-tu, a-ša-an-du 158 ḫāš-/ḫašš- 3564
ēšḫar, išḫan- 309 dḪaša(m)ilii̯aš GIŠ 492
ḫaštai- 159
gaenaš=šeš 27212 ḫaštii̯aš 15933
(UZU)genu- / ganu- 197 ḫāt-/ḫat- 3564
ganut, genut 171, 197 ḫatk- 165, 3565
gēnu 197 ḫa-at-k° 165
gēnuu̯ aš 197 ḫatnu-zi
gimra- 595 ḫa-at-nu-, ḫa-da-nu- 165
gulš- 267 ḫatta-i / ḫatt- 15522
gurta- 267 ḫa-at-ta(-a)-i, ḫa-ad-da(-a)-i 15522

626 Word Index
ḫatt-a(ri), ḫazzii̯e/a-zi 15522 i-i̯a-an-zi (OS) 178, 180

ḫa-ad-da-an-t° 15522 i-i̯a-en-zi 178
ḫa-ad-da-an-zi 15522 i-i̯a-er (NS) ~ i-e-er (OS+) 178
ḫa-ad-da(-ri) 15522 i-i̯a-Iz-zi (NS?) 178
ḫa-at-ta(-…) 15522 i-i̯a-mi (OS) ~ i-e-mi (OS) 179
ḫatteššar 15522 i-(e-)en-zi (OH/MS) 178, 180
ḫazzii̯e/a-zi 15522 ii̯annāi- 595
ḫēu- dImmarni 595
ḫe-e-mu-ú-uš 271 innarau̯ ant- 461, 463, 46321
ḫenkan- 300 irḫa-
ḫīla- 307 ir-ḫu-ú-š(a) 271
ḫilammar 307 išḫa-
ḫinḫindu- 56434 iš-ḫu-u-uš 271
ḫu-e-nu-ú-ut 263 išḫi(a)- 180
ḫuittii̯a- 191 išḫii̯al 36114
ḫulalia- 191 iš-ḫi-ia-ni-uš, iš-ḫi-e-ni-uš 180
ḫulālii̯e/a-zi išḫiman-/išḫimen- 198, 200, 216
ḫu-la-a-li-ia-mi (OS) ~ ḫu-la-a-li-e-mi 180 išḫimanan → išḫimenan 200, 216
ḫulukanni- 354 išḫimanaš 198, 200
ḫuni(n)k- išḫimanit (MH) 198
ḫu-ú-ni-ik-zi 271 išḫimanta (OH+) 198
ḫuntaria- 193 išḫimāš (OH) 198, 200, 216
ḫuntarii̯a(i)- 178 išḫuzzia- 186
ḫurtai-/ḫurti- 161, 162 iškār-/iškar- 3564
ḫur-da-a-uš 161 iškia- 189
ḫur-ta-a-uš 161 iš-ki-še-et 128
ḫurtalli- 53629 iš-nu-u-ra- 267
(DUG) ḫurtii̯alla- 536, 539 išpānt-i / išpant- 3565
ḫu-u̯ a-al-liš 281 iš-pa(-a)-anti 158
ḫuu̯ app-i / ḫupp- ši-pa-an-taḫ-ḫi 502, 5027
ḫ(u)u̯ appi 264 ši-pa-an-ta-an-zi 158
ḫuu̯ art-i / ḫurt- 161, 162 ši-pa(-a)-an-ti 158
ḫur-ta-aḫ-ḫu-un, ḫur-da-aḫ-ḫu-un 161 ši-pa-taḫ-ḫi 502, 5027
ḫu(u̯ a)rti- 53627 ši(-ip)-pa-an-da-an-zi 158
NA4ḫuu̯ aši 537, 538, 53838 ši(-ip)-pa-an-ta-an-zi 158
ḫuu̯ aši 531, 537, 53732, 538, 539 iš-pa-an-tu-uz-zi-, iš-pa-an-du-uz-zi- 158
NA4ḫuu̯ ašii̯a 538 išpār-/išpar- 355, 3552, 356, 3564
išparuzzi- 354, 355, 358
-i̯a 238 išpii̯atar- 595
idālu- ištaman(a)- 322
[i-da]-a-la-mu-u-uš 270 ištamaš(š)- 322
[i-da-(a)]-la-mu-u-š(a) 270 ištanāna- 32420
i̯e/a-zi (ii̯a-) 188 ištantai- 317, 321, 322, 323, 324
i-an-zi (MH/MS) 178, išta(n)ḫ- 317, 321, 322, 323
180 ištanzan- 216, 32420
i̯a-an-zi (OH/MS) 178, 180 ZI-an-za = ištanza* 216
i-e-ši (OS) ~ i-i̯a-ši (MS) 180 ištanzanaš 216
i-(e-)Iz-zi (OS) ~ i̯a-az-zi (MS) 179 ištāp-/ištapp- 3564

Word Index 627
itar 309 katta ‘beside’ 266

iu̯ ar 278, 279, 2806 katta ‘down’ 152, 258, 261, 265, 266, 2664,
i-ú-uk 263 32732, 493, 546, 563
kē uddār 374
-kan 246, 247, 248, 249, 2519 ker/kard(i)-
kā- 366, 373 kar-da(-)162
kī 264 kar-di(-) 162
kīdani 264 kar-di-i=š-mi 162
ku-u-un 263, 268 kar-di-i=š-ši 162
ku-u-uš 263, 270 kar-ta(-) 162
kā- memii̯a(n)- 373 kar-ta[-…] 162
LÚ
kaina- 215 kar-ta-az=(š)-mi-it 162
kalank- 3565 kar-ti(-) 162, 325, 326
kammarakānk-/ kar-ti-i=š-mi 162
kank- 3565, 469, 477, 47735 keššar/kiššer-/kišr- 197
kap-pí-ú-uš 270 keššar 198
kappuu̯ au̯ ar 546 kiššarit, kišrīt (MH) 198
kappuu̯ e/a-zi ki-iš-šar-ta, ki-iš-šar-at 170, 171, 172, 198
kap-pu-u-u̯ a-iz-zi, kap-pu-u̯ a-it (OH/NS), kišširaš 198
kap-pu-u-Iz-zi (MH/MS), kap-pu-u-(e-) ki-a(ri) 370
et (OS) 182 ki-it-ta 152
kap-pu-u̯ a-an-zi (NS), kap-pu-u-an-zi (OH/ ki-it-ta(-ri), ki-id-da(-ri) 152
NS) 180, 182 kī 373
kap-pu-u-u̯ a-a-an-zi, kap-pu-u-u̯ a-a-it kī uttar 373
(NS) 183 kiššan 373
kap-pu-u-e-ši (OH/NS), kappu-u-en-zi (OS) kimra- see gimra-
~ kap-pu-u-u̯ a-ši, kap-pu-u-an-zi (OH/ kīnu-zi
NS) 182 gi-nu-uz-zi 147
kard(i)- see ker/kard(i)- ki-nu-uz-zi 147
kardimmia- 186 (see also kartimii̯att-) kinun(a) 366, 3664
kardimii̯aittat (MH/MS) 177 kue(n)-zi / kun- / kua(n)-
kardimii̯attari (MH/MS) 177 kuemi 266
kardimii̯az-zi 177 ku-en-ta, ku-e-en-ta, ku-in-ta 158, 159, 161
kartimmii̯aizzi 177 kuer- 355
*karkid- 267 kui-
karkidant- 267 kue 410
karpi- 596 ku-e-da-ni-ki 502
kartimii̯att- 596 (see also kardimmia-) ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki 140, 141, 502
karū 369 ku-in 139
kāša 365, 366, 3664, 367, 3675, 368, 36867, ku-iš 139, 140, 141, 240, 248, 252
8369, 370, 37013, 371, 373, 374, 375, 376, ku-i-(i)š 139
377, 378, 379, 37938 ku-it 139
ka-a-ša 238 ku-i-ú-uš 270
kāšat(t)a 365, 366 ku-iš-ki 139, 140, 141, 244, 245, 253, 342, 347,
kāšma 365, 366, 37013, 375, 376, 37629, 378, 348
379 kuitki 128
katra- kuitman 367
MUNUS.MEŠ
kat-ru-ú-uš 271 kungali- 494

628 Word Index
ku-u-un, ku-u-uš see kā- ma(-a)-al-di, ma(-a)-al-ti 163

kuppiš/kuppišn- 306 [ma-]ạ-al-ti 163
mKur 342 mān 336
ku-u-ur-ka- 267 ma-a-an 137, 138, 170
kurni 48 ma-a-n=a-aš 125
kuruzzi- 355 manā- 328
ku-ú-ša- 263 ma-a-an-ḫa-an-da, ma-a-aḫ-ḫa-an-da,
kuššan 261 ma-a-aḫ-ḫa-an-ta 170, 171
K(u)u̯ alabašša 555, 55824 ma-a-an-kán, ma-an-kán 502
kuu̯ ani- 48 mannitti- 595
k(u)u̯ ar(a)ške- 267 Manuši- 385, 390, 392
k(u)u̯ aške- 267 Manušiš fMa-nu-ši-iš 385
MUNUSSUḪUR. fKuu̯ attalla 280 Manuz(z)ii̯a 390, 392
mārk-/mark- 3565
lā-i / l- marmar(r)a- 588, 595
dālaizzi 182 maru- 514
la-a-Iz-zi 182 ma-ši-ú-u[š]? 270
labarna 281, 55622 meḫur 297
lagan- 300 mekkinakkiš 546
laḫḫia- 193 mema/i- 317, 324, 32422, 325, 326, 327, 32732,
lāḫu-i / laḫu- 262, 354, 3565 328, 32841, 329, 330, 374
lāḫui 183 mēni/a- 32629, 327, 328
lāḫ̆ uu̯ āĭ (OH/NS) → lāḫuu̯ āizzi (NH) 183 minu- 390, 391, 392
Laḫuu̯ azantii̯a 358, 359, 35912, 36012, 36217 mu-u-ga-a-i- 263
la-a-ḫu-u̯ a-az-za-an-ti-az 358 mugau̯ ar (mugawar) 484, 4841, 485, 4852,
lá-ḫu-za-tí-a-i-e 3589 486, 4866, 487, 489, 490, 491, 493, 494, 495
Lau̯ azantii̯a 359 Mu-ul-li-ia-ra 388
Lāu̯ azantii̯a 359
lāk-/lak- 3565 =naš 241
lammar, gen. sg. lamnaš 312 nāḫ-/naḫḫ- 3564
le-e 236 na-it-ta 154
lingāi- 270 nam-ma 137
li-in-ga-u!-uš 270, 271 na-ni-ti 281
li(n)k-zi našma 336, 3477
likta 503 na-at-ta 153, 154
li-in-ik-ta, li-in-kat-ta 160 na-a-u̯ i5 = na-a-ú-i 197
linikta 503 ne-g-a- 29035
linkanta 503 nēi̯a-a(ri) 264
linkatta 503 nīi̯a-a(ri) 264
lukk-tta nu=nnaš 124
lu-uk-kat-ta, lu-ug-ga-at-ta, lu-kat-ta 152 nu=uš 125
lulimi- 460, 461, 46117, 463, 46321 nu-uš-ši 127
nu-ut-ta, nu-ud-da 152
-(m)a 236, 336, 3477
maḫḫan 368, 564 padd(a)-i 150, 152, 153, 15522
māḫḫan 170, 171, 487 pád-d[a-…] 150
mālk-/malk- 3565 paddaḫḫi 149, 150
mālt-i / malt- 163, 3565 pád-da-aḫ-ḫu-un 150
ma-al-da-aḫ-ḫi, ma-al-ta-aḫ-ḫi 163 pád-da-a-i, pád-da-i 150

Word Index 629
pád-da-an-t° 150 palša 405
pád-da-an-zi, pád-da-a-an-zi 150 paltan- 163, 16446
pád-da-a-ri 150 paltana- 16346
paddar/paddan- 149, 150, pal-ta-na 16446
152 UZUpal-ta-na-a[n] 16446
pád-da-na-aš 150 pal-ta-na-aš 16446
pád-da-n[a-az] 150 paltanaš=šiš=ašta 16446
pád-da-ni, pád-da-a-ni, [p]ád-da-ni-i, paltānaš 16446
pád-da[-ni] 150 paltani 16446
pád-da-ni-it 150 paltant 16346
pád-da-r° 150 [pa]l-ta-an-t=a-at=kán 164
pát-ta-ni-it 150 pal-ta-nu-uš 16446
pát-ta-ar 150 paltaš 16446
paḫḫur 297 paltaš=šiš=apa 16446
paḫḫueni 297 pạl-t[a-aš]ši-ša-pa 16446
paḫš- 3565 [pal-t]a-aš-ši-ta-aš-ta 16446
pai-i / pi- 126, 127, 192 panku- 197
pa-a-i, pa-i 127 pa-an-ga-u-u̯ i5 = pa-an-ga-u-i 197
pa-i-ta-aš 169 panz(a) 546
pa-it-ta, pé-eš-ta 127 papparš- 3565
pa-it-ti, pa-iš-ti, pé-eš-ti 127, 154 parā 344, 546, 548, 551, 559
pé-e-eḫ-ḫi, pé-eḫ-ḫi, pé-e-eḫ-ḫé 127 parā nai- 378
pé-eš-ki-mi 236 parā pai- 546, 548
pii̯au̯ en 177 pa-ra-at-ta-ša-at-ta-an 281
pí-i-e-er, pí-i-er, pí-e-er, pí-i̯a-er, pí-er 127, pargašti- 307
177, 180 pargatar 307
pí-i-ú-e-ni, pí-ú-e-ni, pí-i̯a-u-e-ni, parkešš- 307
pí-i-i̯a-u-e-ni 127 pargešnit 307
pai-zi 126, 127, 134, 537, 546 parkuš 546
pa-a-er, pa-i-er, pa-er, pa-a-e-er, pár-ga-u-uš 270
pa-e-er 127 paršdu- 595
pa-a-ú-un, pa-a-u-un, pa-a-un paršia- 192
(pāun) 268, 269, 2697, 270 Paršuḫanda 358
pa-i-mi, pa-a-i-mi, pa-a-mi 127, 2697 pāš-/paš- 3564
pa-i-ši, pa-a-i-ši, pa-it-ti, pa-a-ši 127 patteššar 15522
pa-it-ta 127 pé-e-da-ad-d[i] 154
pa-i-u̯ a-ni, pa-a-i-u̯ a-a-ni, pa-a-i-u̯ a-ni, pei̯a- 192
pa-i-ú-u̯ a-ni, pa-a-i-u-e-ni- pa-i-u-e-ni, peran 325, 326, 329, 330, 341, 350, 538,
pa-a-u-e-ni 127 55316
pa-iz-zi, pa-i-iz-zi, pa-a-iz-zi 127 pērunanz(a) 546
palāḫ-/palaḫḫ- 3565 peššii̯e/a-zi (peššia-) 189
palḫašti- 307 pé-eš-ši-ia-mi (OS) ~ pé-eš-ši-e-mi
palḫatar/palḫann- 307 (OS) 179
palḫešš- 307 peššiēzzi (OS) ~ peššii̯azzi (MH/MS),
palḫeššar 307 peššii̯aizzi (OH/NS) 177
palḫešnit 307 piddai-i 150, 152
palḫi- 134, 307 piddāi, píd-da-a-i, píd-da-i (pres.) 149,
pal-ḫa-a-e-eš, pal-ḫa-a-eš, pal-ḫa-e-eš, 150
pal-ḫi-e-eš 134, 135 píd-da-a-i, píd-da-i (iptv.) 150, 151

630 Word Index
piddai- (cont.) šarria- 189

[p]íd-da-iš, píd-da-a-it, píd-da-a-iš, šarta-i 162, 163
pí[d-d]a-it 150, 151 [šar-]da-a-iz-zi 163
píd-da-it-ti 151 šar-ta-i 162
píd-da-a-iz-zi 150 šaruu̯ e/a-zi 182
píd-da-a-an-zi, píd-da-an-zi 150, 151 ša-ru-u̯ a-It 182, 183
píd-da-at-ten, píd-da-a-at-tén 151 ša-ru-u-e-er 182
píd-da-a-u-e-ni 150 šāu̯ ar 595
pít-ta-a-er, píd-da-a-er 150, 151 šeppitt- 169
pí-it-t[a-i], pít-ta-a-iz-zi 150 še-ep-pí-da-aš, še-ep-pí-it-ta-aš 169
pít-ta-iš-k°, píd-da-a-eš-k°, šeppit 169
píd-da-a-iš-k°, píd-da-iš-k°, šēr 493, 545, 563
píd-da-eš-k° 150, 151 šii̯a- 190
píd-du-li-i̯a-u-u̯ a-an-za 236 ši-i-ia-a-Iz-zi, ši-ia-a-It (NS) 178
piḫaimmi 533, 53315 ši-pa-an-taḫ-ḫi, ši-pa-taḫ-ḫi see išpānt-i / išpant-
pít-tu-u-la- 267 šīu̯ - 16648
pulla- 2819, 287 MUNUSšiu̯ anzanna- (= MUNUSAMA.
puri- 56331 DINGIR) 283
pu-u-ri-ú-uš 270 šī�ŭ̯ att- 166
putalim(m)i 533 šumaš 372
šuppala-
-šan 246, 248, 249, 2519 šuppala 404
=šmaš 241 šuppalaš 404
šāi- 595 šuppaleš 404
šaḫḫan- 300 DUMU.MUNUS šuppeššara- 280–281, 28110,
šākan/šakn- 357 290, 455, 456, 4565, 4578, 458, 461, 462,
ša-kán-da 171 463, 465, 466
šaknāš 357 šuppi-
šākk-/šakk- 357 šu-up-pí-ú-uš 270
šakkar (zakkar), gen. sg. šaknaš 309 šu-up-pí-ia-aš-n°, šu-up-pí-eš-n° 180
šākuu̯ a 198 šuu̯ aiš 215
šākuu̯ at, šakuit 198 šuu̯ e/a-zi
šakuu̯ āi̯e/a-zi 3576 šu-ú-u̯ a-a-iz-zi 183
šalḫii̯anti- 595 šu-u-ú 263
šalli- 218
šallia- 189 -tta 154, 159, 261
šanḫu- 32112 tabarna 55622
šapašii̯e/a-zi tagān 214
ša-pa-ši-ia-ar 180 tagān(ze/ipa-) 167
ša-pí-ia-i 176 tai̯azil-, tai̯ezil- 198
šapia- 193 tai̯azil 198
šarā 493, 546, 5463, 563 tai̯azilaš 198
š(a)rā 266 tāi̯e/a-zi (tāi̯a-) 187
NINDAšarām(m)an- 5463, 55113, 563 da-ia-er (MH/MS), da-i-e-er (MH/
šarammanaz 55113 MS) 178
šarāmnaz 5463 [ta-a-]ia-Iz-zi 178
šar-li-iš-ki-mi 238 ta-i-Iz-zi-la- (MH/NS), ta-ia-az-zi-il,
šarnumar, gen. sg. šarnumaš 307 ta-ia-zi-la- (OS), da-ia-zi-la- (OH/
šārr- 308 MS) 180
šarrumar 308 taištia- 192
tak-ku 169

Word Index 631
takšeš- 306 u̯ arḫuiš⸗a 546
talugi- u̯ arš- 357
t/da-lu-ga-e-eš 269 u̯ arša- 204
ta-lu-ga-ú-uš 269, 270 u̯ aršula- 487, 488, 494
tamai-/tame- 167 u̯ āš-/*u̯ aš- 3587
ta-a-an 138 u̯ ašpa-
taparrii̯a(i)- (taparria-) 183, 194 u̯ ašpa 404
ta-par-ri-ia-Iz-zi 177 u̯ ašpaš 404
tarḫ- 244 u̯ ašpeš 404
tarḫ- + -za 244, 246 u̯ aššia- 193
tarḫu-/ taruḫ- 262 u̯ aššiezzi (MH/MS+OH/NS) ~
Tarḫunt- 262 u̯ aššii̯azzi (OH/NS), u̯ aššii̯aizzi
tarkummia- 187 (NS) 177
tarkummiēzzi (NS), tarkummii̯aizzi u̯ aštul 198
(NS) 177 u̯ aštulaš 198
tarn(a)- 15522 u̯ ātar / u̯ itēn-
taštašia- 192 u̯ ādar 309, 312
tau̯ ananna 281 u̯ a-a-tar 296
te-e-kán = /dḗgan/ 213 ú-e-te-na-áš 296
tekkuššia- 187 ú-e-te-ni-it/d 296
tekuššiezzi (OS), tekkuššie[zzi] (MH/MS) ~ u̯ idār 297, 309, 310, 312
tekkuššii̯azzi (OH/NS), tekkuššii̯aizzi ṷidenaš 312
(MH/MS) 177 ú-i-ta-an-ta 171
tii̯a- ‘bind’ ú-da-ad-di 154
tii̯ammar 307 uddar / uddan- (see also kē uddār, kī
tii̯e/a-zi (tii̯a-) 190, 317, 320, 321, 322, 495 uddār) 151, 152, 297
ti-i-ia-er (NH), ti-(i-)e-er, ti-i-er (NH) 178 ud-da-na-an-za 151
ti-ia-Iz-zi (NH?) 178 uddanaš 502
tin(n)u- 487, 488, 489, 491, 494 ud-da-na-a-aš, ud-da-na-aš 151
tit(ta)nu-zi 165, 317, 320, 322 ud-da-na-a-az, ud-da-na-az,
tuḫḫui-/tuḫḫuu̯ ai- 489 ud-da-na-za 151
tuḫušiia(i)- (tuḫušia-) 178, 194 ud-da-ni-i, ud-da-ni, ud-da-a-ni-i 151
tulii̯a 342 ut-ta-na-a-an-te-eš, ud-da-na-a-an-te-eš,
tunnakkiš/tunnakkišn- 306 [u]d-da-na-an-te-eš 151
MUNUSŠU.GI fTunnau̯ i 280 ut-ta-na-a-aš, ut-ta-na-aš,
ud-da-na-aš 151
-u̯ a 251, 254 ut-ta-a-ar, ud-d[a?-]a?-ar , ud-da-a-ar,
-u̯ a(r) 240, 253, 25310 ud-da-ar 149, 151, 297, 342
-un 267, 268 udnē 312
=uš 241 u̯ e-zi / uu̯ a- 259
NINDAu̯ agāta- 271, 272 ú-u̯ a-an-zi, ú-an-zi (OS) ~ ú-en-zi
u̯ agāta 271, 272 (OS) 180
u̯ agātan 271 ú-u̯ a-az-zi (NS), ú-(e-)ez-zi (OS+)
u̯ agātaš, u̯ agataš, u̯ agadaš 271, 272 180
u̯ a-aḫ-nu-ú-mi see u̯ eḫ-zi / u̯ aḫ-, u̯ eḫ-a(ri) u̯ eḫ-zi / u̯ aḫ-, u̯ eḫ-a(ri)
u̯ āk-/u̯ akk- (u̯ ag-) 271, 357 u̯ a-aḫ-nu-ú-mi 263
u̯ akkaria- 193 u̯ emii̯e/a-zi (u̯ emii̯a-) 190
u̯ alḫ- 262 ú-e-mi-ia-ar 180
u̯ alku(u̯ )a- 220 ú-e-mi-Iz-zi (OS) ~ ú-e-mi-e-Iz-zi (MS) ~
u̯ ar-āri, ur-āri ú-emi-ia-az-zi 180
u̯ arāni 201 ú-ug 263

632 Word Index
u̯ ia- 187 DUB.SAR 439, 440, 444

u̯ ida- 312 LÚ
DUB.SAR 439, 441, 445
u̯ ii̯an- 197, 198, 199, 200, 207, 213, 214, 215, LÚ
DUB.SAR.GIŠ 514
220, 222 DUG 502
u̯ ii̯ana- 214 DUMUMEŠ 234, 238, 248, 252, 377,
u̯ ii̯an(a)- 195, 196, 213, 219, 220, 221 5463
ú-i-i̯a-na-an 197 DUMU.DUMUMEŠ 240
u̯ ii̯an-aš (gen. sg.) 198, 200, 213 DUMU.LUGAL 337, 444, 514
ú-i-i̯a-an-ta =/u̯ ii̯an-d/ 197, 198, 215 DUMU.MUNUS 28110, 455, 456, 4566, 4578,
/u̯ ii̯an(a)u̯ anta-/ 200 458, 45812, 459, 461, 462, 463, 465,
URUu̯ i5-i̯a-na-u̯ a-an-da 199 466
URUu̯ i5-i̯a-na-u̯ a-an[-ta-aš] 199 DUMU.MUNUSMEŠ 240
u̯ i5-i̯a-nu-an-ta-aš 199 DUMU.MUNUS-la-an 281
ú-i-nu-an-da 199 É.DINGIR-LIM 502
u̯ i5-nu-u̯ a-an-ta-aš 199 GAL DUB.SAR.GIŠ 44529
u̯ inii̯ant- 199 GAL NA.GAD 44529
(d)u̯ inii̯ant- 201 GAL-DU 247, 503, 513
dú-i-ni-i̯a-an-ta-an, GAL UKU.UŠ 44529
ú-i-ni-i̯a-an-da-an 201 GEŠTIN 196, 197, 198, 200, 201, 215, 221
u̯ išurii̯a- (u̯ išuria-) 193, 489, 48912 GIŠ
GEŠTIN 196, 198
u̯ išūrii̯a- 588 GEŠTIN-an 197
ulišta 588, 595 GEŠTIN-aš 197, 200
uppara- 514 GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-aš = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-aš 197, 198,
u-ur-ki- 266 215
urkia- 186 GEŠTIN-i̯a-na-az = u̯ i5-i̯a-na-az 197
uu̯ a- 259, 548 GEŠTIN-iš = /u̯ ii̯an-i-s/ 201
GEŠTIN-it 197
-za 244, 245, 246, 254, 230, 240, 242, 243, GEŠTIN-na-an = /u̯ ii̯an-an/ 197, 200
244, 324, 325, 326 GEŠTIN-ni-it = /u̯ ii̯anid/ 197
zāḫ-/zaḫḫ- 16647, 3564 GEŠTIN-ta 197
zē-a(ri) / z- GIŠ 502, 537, 539
[z]é-i-e-ri, zé-(e-)a-ri, zé-(e-)ia-ri (MH/ ḪUR.SAG 533
MS) 180 ḪUR.SAG
da-li-ia-nu 533
zīk 261 IŠKUR 140, 533, 53317
zikkanzipaš 53836 dIŠKUR 238, 535
ziladuu̯ a 349 IŠKUR nerikki 533
zintuḫi 456, 4562 KAŠ.GEŠTIN 535, 536
mZiti 279 KI.LAM 514, 538
KI.MIN 610, 613
AMA DINGIR 457 KI.SIKIL 456, 4562, 4563, 464, 465, 466
MUNUSAMA.DINGIR 283 KUR URU 551
ana A.ŠÀ A.GÀR-ŠU 565 LÚ 436, 4362, 502, 553, 55316
ANŠE.KUR.RAMEŠ 546 LÚ
DUB.SAR 445
ARAD-annipai- 547 LÚ.MEŠ GAL 443
BAPPIR 588 LÚ.MEŠ SAG 435, 436, 437, 43710, 438, 443,
BULÙG 588 444, 446, 447, 451
DDÌM.NUN.ME 613 LÚ SAG 435, 436, 4364, 4365, 437, 439, 430,
DINGIR 441, 446
DINGIRMEŠ-aš 350 LUGAL 231, 240, 251, 345, 437, 512, 513, 538

Word Index 633
LUGALMEŠ 336 u̯ alu̯ a-/u̯ alu̯ i- 220

LUGAL-i 249, 32731 u̯ an(i)- 2784
LUGAL-uš 239 u̯ arša- 204
LUGAL.GAL 231 u̯ ii̯an- 202
MUNUS 277, 278, 279, 280, 2806, 281, 282, 283, u̯ ii̯an-ī-/u̯ in-ī- 213
290, 457, 4578, 464, 465, 501, 5015, 502, 5027 /u̯ ii̯an-ī-s/ 202
MUNUS.LUGAL 240, 338, 240, 251, 252, 279, u̯ in- 202
280, 338, 528 u̯ in-ī- 213, 218
MUNUS.LUGAL-i 249 �̆
/u̯ īn-ī-n/ 202
MUNUS.LUGAL-ri 249 u̯ inii̯ant- 199
NINDA 5463, 270, 271, 272, 341, 342, 528 uu̯ a- 386
NINDA.GUR4.RA 236 uzzi- 389
NU.GÁL 546 zida/i- 510
URUKÙ.BABBAR(-ša-) 55925 Zidanna/i- 510
UTU.MI2 53317 zidi- 279
VIR.x-zi/a 44531
UZUZAG(.LU)-an 16446 I.2.6. Cuneiform Luwian
-ati 262
I.2.3. Palaic a-an-na-an 265
ēšḫur 267 an-na-a-an pa-a-ta-an-za 265
-ḫa 197 an-na-a-an ti-iš-ša-a-an 265
šu-ú-na-at 263 Attarimma 55724
ta-šu-ú-ra- 267 (MUNUS)daniti 457
-ḫa 197
I.2.4. (Pre-)Proto-Luwian ḫanḫanii̯ai 177
́
*deγom-ī�+s/m 213 ma-ad-du 202
*dəγém(i) > *dəi̯ém(mi) 214 māmmanna- 326, 32630, 327
*dii̯amm-í 214 manā- 326, 32629, 327, 328
́
*dii̯amm-ī�-s 214 m(a)nāti 262
́
*dii̯amm-ī�-n 214 mii̯aša- 214
mimma- 32630
I.2.5. Luwian (unspecified) mi-i-ša-an-za, mi-ša-an-za 214
ān̆ ni- 278 paddalii̯ai 177
appan 5193 pa-a-ta-an-za 265
Arma-uzzi- 390 šalḫa/i- 218
ašri- 278 šalḫi-tti- 203, 218
*duttari(i̯a)- 277, 278 šapii̯ai-mma- 176
ḫarp- 525 tarḫ- 262
ḫuḫa- 2784 tar-kum-mi-i-[ta] 177
-i(i̯a)- 278 tii̯ammi- 214
mannu 389, 392 tii̯ammi 214
manuḫa 389 tii̯ammin 214
Maššana-uzzi- 390 tii̯ammiš 214
-tt(i)-/-d(i)- 278 ti-iš-ša-a-an 265
tadii̯a- 278 tiu̯ at- 166
tarḫ- 262 tummant- 322
Tarḫunt- 262 tummantai- 322
tuu̯ a/ira/išaša/i- 525 ṷaddanii̯a- 312
-u̯ a 521 u̯ ida- 312

634 Word Index
u-i-i̯a- 263 -ahi- 384, 391

u̯ in-ii̯a- 197, 199, 202, 213, 218 -ama- 384
zanta 258, 265, 266 -ã 267
zu-u-u̯ a- 263 Ada[m̃ ]mñna- 383, 387, 392
Ada[m̃ ]mñnaje 383
I.2.7. Hieroglyphic Luwian -edi 262
/-adi/ ~ /-ari/ 262 -ehe- 391
á-pa-ta-za 2643 ebette 2643
huhad(i)- 2784 e/ẽmu 267
/hwiyamma/i-/ 118 amu 267
I̯ariris 388 eri- 387, 388, 389
i(a)-*430+TA(WA)+RA/I 55215 55621, Erimñnuha 382, 383, 384, 387, 389, 392
55724 hrm̃ mã 267
i(a)-*503(URBS) 55215 Ija- 388
I(a)tarima 55215 Ijeri 388
(VITIS)ma-tú-sà, ma-tu-sà 202 kbatra 284
Pa+ra/i-zu-tax(URBS) 359 krzzãnase 55723
pi-ia-i 177 lãtã 267
taparrii̯ai 177 meñna/e- 384, 390, 392
tati- 15522 mẽmruwi 430
tuu̯ atri- 284 mñnãtahi 384, 392
/tsornid-/ 267 Mñnu- 382, 384, 385, 387, 389, 390, 391, 392
u̯ anatti- 2784 Mñnuha 387, 389
u̯ ii̯an-i-, u̯ in-i- 197, 198, 199, 201, 202, 213, Mñnuhe 382, 383, 384, 387, 392
214 Mñnus- 384
(‘VITIS’)u̯ a/i-ia-ni-sa, u̯ a/i-ia-ni-sá, Mñnusama- 384
u̯ a/i-ia-ni-sa 201, 202 [m̃ ]mñna- 384
�̆
(VITIS)u̯ a/i-ni-na = /u̯ īn-ī-n/ 202 Natrbbijẽmi 96
u̯ a/i-ia-ni-[x]-i = /u̯ ii̯an-i/? 202 Pulenjda 55723
u̯ a/i-ní-ti 202 qlahi 392
u̯ ii̯ani(i̯a)- 202 se 117, 4202
u̯ īni- 214 Sttule 55723
Yariris see I̯ariris -tr(a)- 384
tadi 262
FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA(-)ta-ni-ti 45811 Telebehi 555, 556
(FEMINA.PURUS.INFRA)ta-ni-ti-na 457, Tẽnegure/Tẽnagure 55723
458 Tm̃ peime 383
LEPUS+ra/i-ta /t(a)barrita/ 177 Trm̃ mile/i 554
LEPUS+ra/i-ia-ta /t(a)barrijata/ 177 Trqqñt- 96, 262
LITUUS-na- 326, 328 uwi- 388
MATER-nat(i)- (=*annat(i)-) 278 Uwihairi 388, 391
POCULUM.CAPERE 36012 uwihi 388
POCULUM.PES.*67 36012 Winbẽte 384
(REGIO)VITIS 200 Χãkbi 56434
URBS-mi-ni- 390 Χpparama 384
I.2.8. Lycian I.2.9. Milyan (Lycian B)

The letters ã, ẽ, m̃ , and ñ are ordered after a, e, Piχre 389
m, and n, respectively. sebe 117

Word Index 635
Xãzbi 56434 psmšk(wneit) – psmaśk – pismašk/

pismaśk 96, 107, 109, 1099
I.2.10. Lydian psTým[-]ś 112
-rs2 421 ptnupi- 113
amu 267 pttu- 113
*ibsi- 548 pttuś 107
qlaλi- 116
I.2.11. Carian qlaλiś 96, 117
aorś 98 qtblemś 96
arliomś 97, 98 qýblsiś 96, 109, 117
βemś 106 sb 101, 102, 112
βrsi – iβrsiś – iβarsiś 96 sbpolo 101, 102, 115, 117
dquq 96 semwś 113
dwśoλś – iduśolś 96 smδýbrs 96
emsγlpn 96 śuγλiq 111, 117
iβrsi 105 śuγλiś 96, 111
idmns 96, 104 šarkbiom 98
idrayridsemδbq 96 šaruśoλ, šarwljatś 104
kbid 557 šdτatś 1046
kbidn – kbdynš 96 šr(quq), šar(kbiom) 96, 104, 117
kbjomś 96, 98, 117, 118 šýinś 102, 104, 112, 114
Ki 100 tbridbδś 96, 104, 106
kiδbsiś 56434 tñuś 96
Kj 99 trqδ– – trquδe 96
kojoλ 97 trqδimrqrdstazomδ[ 96
ksolbś 96, 117 tŕk̂ata[r]ś 109
lkorś 104 ttbazi – ttubazi 96, 113, 115
mdayn 97, 98, 104 týn 115
mdaýn 104 ursk̂leś 110, 112
mrsiś 104 w 102
msnordś 96 wśoλś 113
mtKelŋ 96 yiasi 97
mTmś 101, 102, 112 yjas[iś] 97
ntokris 109, 117 ynemordś 11010
ntro 96 ýasδś 104, 106
?/obsmsmñ¿ñ/?… 96 ýbt 115
para- 97 ýnsmsos 96
paraeym 97, 101 zmuś 106
paraiβreλ 98
paraiβreλś 110, 112 I.2.12. Sidetic
pikrmś – pikarmś 96, 104, 117 ak/basa 420
pjabrm 104 ak/bas2e 421
pk̂simtś 107, 113 das 420
plqo 96, 117 diunesiyas 420
pλeq 106 ews 420
pλeqś 106, 117 eyas 420
pnlδśwl 96, 102, 104, 107, 112, 113 isto 420, 429, 4295, 430
pntmunś 96, 104 istos 429
pnuśoλ – punwśoλś 96, 113, 114, 117, 118 istratag 420

636 Word Index
kwars2at 430 āśritya (Epic Sanskrit) 585

mas2ara 420, 421 āś - 305
mas2aras2 426 ās-án, āsán-i 306
mas2aras2(e) 420, 4202, 421, 426 ās-áḥ 305
mems 430 ās-ā 305
opek/biyas2e 421 ās-n-áḥ 305-306
osad 420 ās-n-ā 305
poloniyas 420 ās-n-é 306
pordors 420
remr 429, 430 ihá 153
sa 420, 4202
sdit2s 420 udrá- 311
s2iduawnis 421 upagāyati (Epic Sanskrit) 585
s2iduawñis 421 upagītāni (Epic Sanskrit) 585
tas 420 upadravaiḥ (Epic Sanskrit) 585
tʰanpiys 420 upaniṣad (Sanskrit) 318
tbiat 430 uptá- 264
tk/biat 429
tokañremar 429 káthā 154
wosb/kiyi 420 kŕ̥ṣṇa- 220
yewas2e 421 kr̥ ṣṇá- 220
znekars2 421 kṣám-
jmán 213, 216,
I.3. Indo-Iranian 302
I.3.1. Proto-Indo-Iranian
*dhán-u̯ r̥/*dhán-u̯ an- 300 gó-mant- 311
*sár-u/*sar-áu̯ - 219 gómat 311
*sar-áu̯ -i 219 gr̥ ṇīṣáṇi 307
*sər-au̯ -á- < *sr̥ H-au̯ -á- 218
jagat (Epic Sanskrit) 585
I.3.2. Old Indo-Aryan (Vedic unmarked) jmán see kṣám-
ákṣi- jyā-́ 218
akṣāṇ́ i 305
ákṣ-i 305, 306 táthā 153
akṣ-ṇ-áḥ 305 tánā 400
an-udrá- 311 tamasá- 218
antam (Epic Sanskrit) 585 tarīṣáṇi 307
ánna- 220 tavástara- 285
ápas/apás- 217 tíṣṭhati see sthā-
apási 217 trastās (Epic Sanskrit) 585
a-vr̥ká- 220 tvád 17160
áśvāvant- 311
áśvāvat 311 -tha 154
ásthi-
asth-á-bhiḥ 305 dāń a- 301
ásthi 305, 306 duhitár- 2772
asthnáḥ 305 ́
dev-ī�/dev-yā ś 214
ásr̥j- dóṣ-
ásr̥k 309 dor-bhyām ́ (AV) 306
asnáḥ 309 doṣáṇ-ī (AV) 306

Word Index 637
doṣ-ṇ-áḥ (ŚB) 306 loká-

dóḥ 306 lokānām (Epic Sanskrit) 585
lokās (Epic Sanskrit) 585,
dhánur/dhánvan- 300 586
dhā-
dádhāti 320 váy- 215
dhyāman- (Sanskrit) 328 vés 215
vay-
naráka- 300 ūvur 217
naś- váyati 217
naśanti 206 vy-ùta- 217
́ an-
nām vāć -
́ ā 309
nām vāḱ 206
nāḿ āni 309 vŕ̥ka- 220
ne-ṣáṇi 307 Vr̥ trahan 584, 586, 594
ved-
pátra- 297 véda 32942
pári-jman 216 vya-
párur, párvan- 304 ávyat 217
pitár- 28517 vyáyati 217
́
pī�van- 310
́
pī�varī- 310 śīrṣáṇ- 306
́
pī�vas- 310 śīrṣáṇi 306
putrá- 28622 śīrṣṇáḥ 306
pra-salaví 219 śŕ̥ṅga- 267
śéva- 215
balam (Epic Sanskrit) 595,
597 ṣaṭpadair (Epic Sanskrit) 585
bráhman-
bráhmāṇi 400 -sán-i 307
sattvās (Epic Sanskrit) 585
bhav- sad- 318
bhávati 212 san-
bhrāt́ ar- 28518 sanóti 32112
samudrá- 311
mád 17160 sárva- 203
mádhu- 202 sarvam (Epic Sanskrit) 585
man- 32841 sūnús 28621
mányate 327 sū́ra- 304
máhi 310 sū́r(i)ya- 304
mātár- 28619 stána- 216
māś - ~ māṁs-á- 214 sthā-
minóti 32732 tíṣṭhati 320
snuṣā 28726
yāt́ ar- 28620 svàr 304
yugā 310 svásar- 28623
rájas- I.3.3. Proto-Iranian

rajāṃsi 594 *upa-stā-ka- 318
rátha- 220 *R̥ ta- 391

638 Word Index
*R̥ tam-bara- 391 behtar 285

*xšaθra- 391 dāmād 289
*Xšaθrai-zāta- 391 dīm 328
*Xšaθrē-zāta- 391 doxtar 284, 290
*Bagam-kāma- 391 pesar 284
*Vaum-isa- 391 yād (Isfahan) 28620
I.3.4. Avestan I.3.8. Pashto

aiiārǝ 297 yōr 28620
āh- 305
xvaŋhar- 28623 I.4. Greek
θanuuarə, θanuuan- 300 I.4.1. Proto-Greek
dā(y)- 328 *u̯ ii̯ḗn 203, 216
daēman 328 *u̯ ói̯no- 203
dugǝdar- 2772
pitar- 28517 I.4.2. Syllabic Greek (Mycenaean
puθra- 28622 unmarked)
fštāna- (YAv.) 216 e-ke-e 307
brātar- 28518 ki-ni-di-ja 56434
nāmąm 309 po-pu-re-ja 473
-mə̄ṇg 312 po-pu-re-jo 473, 47314
maṇtā 327 pu-ka-ta-ri-ja 473
mātar- 28619 wa-na-ka-te-ro 473
vaēdā 32942 we-je-we 203
vaēiti- (YAv.) 212 wo-i-no (Cypriot) 203
vāxš 206 wo-no 203, 219, 221, 223
viiā- 217 wo-no-qo-so 203
viiąm (OAv.) 217
Vərəθraγna 586 I.4.3. Alphabetic Greek
raθa- 220 -α 401, 402
staman 322 ἄερσᾰ 204
spasan- (YAv.) 212 ἀέρση 204
snāuuarə 300 Ἀθηναγόρας 55723
zamarə/zəmarə (zəmar-) 302 Αθηνοβιου 420
hunuš 28621 ἁλιπόρφυρος 480
ἆμαρ (Dor.) 308
I.3.5. Old Persian Ἄμος 557
puça 28622 ἀμφότερα 404
fra-haravam 218 ἄνυδρος 311
brātar- 28518 ἀνύω 32112
ἀπό 325
I.3.6. Pahlavi ἀπὸ θυμοῦ 325
apastāk 318 Απολοδωρου 420
kanīk/g 28414 Απολωνιου 420
rēdak 28414 Ἀππολωνίδης 57723
ἀριστερóς 286
I.3.7. New Persian Ἀρκτεία 282
Ɂarus 289 Αρμοας 388

Word Index 639
Αρμοασις 388 εἴδη 402
ἄρουρα 313 εἰνάτερες (Hom.) 28620
ἀρρηφορία 282 Εἰτέα 203
ἀρρηφόροι 282 Εκατομνως 387
ἀρρηφόρος 287 ἐλαίᾱ 203
ἄστρα 400 ἔλαιον 203
αὐτά 404 ἔνθα 153
αὐτὰ τὰ ἴσα 402, 4056 ἔορ 287
αὐτὰ τὰ ὅμοια 402 ἔορες 28623
Ἀφροδίτη 480 ἔπεμψ’ 470, 476, 47631, 477, 478
ἐπὶ 562
βιός 218 ἐπιστήμη 317, 318
Ερβιγεσις 389
γάγαμα 4004 Ερμοας 388
γαγάμη 4004 Ερπιας 389
γάγγαμα 474, 47420 Ερπιγρης 389
γαγγαμεύς 469, 477 ἕρση 204
γαγγαμευτής 474, 477 ἔσοδοι 409
γαγγάμη 4004, 474, 47420, 47524 ἔστι 409
γάγγαμον 469, 47420, 475, 47520, 477, Ἑστία 4295
47735 Ἑστιαῖος 4295
γαγγομῶν 470, 479 ἔστιν οὕς 409
Γανυμήδης 208 ἕτερα 404
γίγνεται 409 εὔπλοια 480
γυνή 289 Ἔφεσος 548
γωγγάμη 474 ἔχειν (Ion.-Att.) 307
ἔχην (Dor. Lesb.) 307
Δαναοί 55824
δέδοκται 409 ϝοινο (Cretan) 203
δεξιóς 286 (ϝ)οἶνος 195, 199, 203, 204, 207, 211, 214, 215,
δεξιτερóς 286 219, 220, 221, 222
δίκαι 400
δικαίου 403 ζυγά 310
δίκη 399, 400
Διϝονυσος 420 ἠθμός 47423
Διονυσος 420 ἦμαρ 300, 307, 308
δόϝεναι (Cypriot) 297 ἤματα 300
δολιχός 220 ἡμέτερος 286
δόλιχος 220 ἦν 409
δοῦναι 297 ἡνία 400
δοῦρα 401
δῶρον 301 (-θα) 154
θέναρ 300
ἔερσᾰ 204 θυγάτηρ 2772, 288
ἐέρσᾱ 204 θυγατέρα 288, 28831
ἐέρση 204
Ἐθνικά 559 Ιδαγυγος 96
εἶδαρ, gen. sg. εἴδατος 297 Ἰνδός 56434

640 Word Index
ἵστημι 320 Μεννέας 385
ἰτέη 203 Μέννης 385
ἴτυς 203 Μέννουλα 386
Μέννυς 386
καὶ 470 Μενοκαμις 386, 387
Κάνδυβα 56434 μένος 584
κανηφόρος 282, 287, 289 Μένουα 386
κανοῦν 282 Μένουσα 386
Καρίας 559 Μένυς 386
κασι- 266 μένω 32841
Κασωλαβα 96, 117 Μήν 390, 391, 392
κατά 261, 266 μήν 386
κάτω 266 μῆρα 404, 405, 406
Καῦνος 557 μηροί 404, 405, 406
Κεβιωμος 96, 117, 118 μηρός 404, 406
κενεός 218 μήτηρ 28619, 289
κημός 47423, 47523 Μιμνασος 3873
Κινδύη 56434 μίμνω 32841
κνίδη 56434 Μίννα 386
Κνίδον 561, 56434 Μινναιος 386
Κολαλδις 96, 116, 117 Μιννᾶς 386
κόρη 28830, 28831, 289 Μίννη 386
Κοτβελημος 96 Μιννίας 386
κοῦρος 28830 Μίννιον 386
Κυβλισσ//ος// 96, 117 Μιννίς 386
κύκλα 405 Μιννίων 386
κύκλος 405 Μίννος 386
Κυλαλδις 96, 116, 117 Μνανδρασις 384, 386, 392
κύρνος 267 μνάομαι 32732
Κυτβελημις 96 Μνιεσυτης 386, 387
κώθων 208 Μυτιληνᾰωι 478
Λαπαρας 55622 Νεάπολις 562
λέγει 470 Νεναρις 388
λεύκη 220 νεοπολιτᾶν 562
λεῦκος 220 νέρτερος 300
λευκός 220 Νετερβιμος 96
λιμένια 480 νεῦρον 300
λoέω 262 Νίσυρος 55824
λύκος 220 Νίτωκρις 117
Λώρυμα 556, 55824 νόμος 312
νύκτωρ 309
-μεν 307 νύμφη 288, 289
Μασανωραδα 96 νυός 288
μέγα 310
μέγαν 476 ξύλα 401
μέθυ 202, 203, 211 ξύλον 401
Μεμμας 430
μέμονα 327, 32841 -ον 401, 402

Word Index 641
ὄαρ 28623 πορφύρα 480
οἶδα 32942 πορφύρᾱ 478
οἰκία 400 πορφύραι 473, 474, 478
(ϝ)οἶκος 207 πορφυρᾶς 477
Οἰλιάδᾱς 208 πορφύρεα 473
οἴνη 203 πορφύρεος 480
Οἰνόανδα 199 πορφυρεύς 477
οἶνοπ- 203, 206 πορφυρευτής 477
Οἶνοπος 206 πορφυρῆ 480
oἰνώψ 206 πορφυροβάφος 47733
οἶνος see (ϝ)οἶνος πορφυροπώλης 477
ὅλος 203 πορφύρω 480
ὀλοφύρεσθαι 242 πότερα 404
ὄναρ 300 πότμος 204
ὄπα 206 Προστάται 560, 562, 56230
Οπραμοας 514 προστατᾶν 562
ὄστρεον 474 πρόχουν 208
Ουαρις 3886 πρόχους 208
οὐρέω 204 πρυτάνεις 560
ὄφρα 300 πτερόν 297
πῦρ 297
παῖς 2819, 287 Πυρινδιοι 560
παῖς καλὴ 289 Πύρινδος 559, 55926, 562
Παναθήναια 282 Πυρινδου 559
παναλουργής 480
πανάλωτος 476 Σαρ- 117
παρθένος 287, 289 σῆμα 328
πατήρ 28517 Σιδιδος 420
παυρότερος 285 σκαιóς 286
Πεδετερις 388 σκῶρ, gen. sg. σκατός 309
πεῖραρ, gen. sg. πείρατος 297, 304 Σουαγελα 96, 117
Πελδηκος 117 σταύνω 321
Πελ(λ)εκως 96, 117 στεγανόν 475
πεπτεώς 204 στεῦται 409
περὶ Κνίδον 561 Στολίς 55723
Περλαμος 384 Στόλος 55723
πέτεσθαι 242 στόμα(τ-) 322
πῖαρ 310 στραταγος 420
πῑ�έ ιρα 310 Σύρνα 557
πίμπλημι 212 σχοίνιον 47523
πῑ�ώ ν 310
πλήθω 212 τὰ ἀληθῆ 403
πόλεμος 209 τὰ ἀνόμοια 402
πόλις 559 τὰ δεξιά 403
πολύ 212 τὰ δίκαια 403
πολύς 212 τὰ ἴσα 4056
πόντια 480 τὰ πολλά 402
Πονυσωλος 117 τὰ τέλη 400
πορίζεσθαι 242 τὰ τρία 402

642 Word Index
ταινία 476 ψεύδει 217
Ταρκυαρις 388 ψευδής 217
ταῦτα 404 ψεῦδος 217
τβιου 430
Τεδιαρις 388 I.4.4. Hesychian glosses
τέκμαρ 300, 307, 308 γαγγάμη· σαγήνη ἢ δίκτυον ἁλιευτικόν. καὶ
τέκμωρ 300, 307, 308 σκεῦος γεωργικὸν ὅμοιον τῇ
Τελεμησσός 554 κρεάγρᾳ 47524
τέλμα 561 γίς· ἱμάς 218
Τελμησσός 554 γωγγάμη· ἐν ᾧ οἱ ἁλιεῖς συνάγουσι τὰ ὄστρεα.
τέλος 219 εἴρηται καὶ γαγγάμη 474
τέρετρον 203 κημός· πλεκτὸν ἀγγεῖον, ἐν ᾧ λαμβάνουσιν τὰς
Τερμησσός 554 πορφύρας 47523
Τερμίλοι 554 στήνιον· στῆθος 216
Τῆλος 55824 υἱήν, ἢ υἱόν· τὴν ἄμπελον 203, 216
τίθημι 320
I.5. Phrygian
τιμάω 476
cUrunis 577
τὸ ἕν 402
matar 28619
Τοννους 96
Mida 578
τόρμος 203
τόφρα 300 I.6. Armenian
Τριόπιον 561 I.6.1. (Pre-)Proto-Armenian
Τροία 208 *gu̯ īni̯o 204, 223
Τροκοαρις 388 *gu̯ īni̯ói̯o 204
τρώω 262 *gu̯ īníi̯o 204, 223
*u̯ oi̯n-ih2ó- 195, 204, 222
-υς 386, 387
ὕδρος 311 I.6.2. (Classical) Armenian
ὕδωρ, gen. ὕδατος 296, 297, 309 anowrǰ 300
υἱήν 212 awr 300, 307, 309
υἱός 206, 28621 getin 312
ὑμέτερος 286 gini 195, 204, 220, 222, 223
ὑμóς 286 gen. sg. ginwoy 204, 220, 223
῎Υρρᾰον 478 dowstr 2772
ełbayr 28518
Φοῖνιξ 208 hayr 28517
φρᾱ�́τηρ 28518 harawownkc 313
φυγαί 409 mayr 28619
φύρω 48043 mnam 32841
Φωκάας 478 neard 300
Φώκαια 478 nēr, gen. sg. niri 28620
now, gen. sg. nowoy 28726
χείρ 198
stanam 321
χειρόμακτρα 470
stin 216
χερρόμακτρα 476, 479
towr (tur) 301
Χερσόνησος 556, 55723
k‘oyr 28623
χθών 213
I.7. Italic
Ψαμμήτιχος 110
I.7.1. (Pre-)Proto-Italic

Word Index 643
*feβlōno- 209 frāter 28518
*flōβlōno- 209 furor 584
*neptūno- 209
*salau̯ o- 203, 218 hīc 211
*sal-u-/*sal-ou̯ - ← *sl ̥h2-u-/*sl ̥h2-au̯ - 218 homō, -inis 213
*u̯ ei̯no- 211
*u̯ ī-nok-o- 207 ianitrīcēs 28620
*u̯ īnom 207, 222 inferus 286
*u̯ oi̯ko- 207 innocuus 207
*u̯ oi̯nom 207 inter 285
*u̯ oku̯āe/o- 206 īrāscor 242
*u̯ ōks 206 iter, gen. sg. itineris 309
ītō 211
I.7.2. Old Latin iuga 310
(nē) fuās, fuat 212
heic 211 līberta 207
sied 17160 loca 404
tēmētum 209, 210 locī 404
tēmulentus 210 locus 404
vecos, veicus 207
maneō 32841
I.7.3. (Classical) Latin
māter 28619
abstēmius 210
meditor 242
amplector 242
meminī 327
arbōs 311
memor 32841
arbustum 311
memorō 327
arua 313
merum 210
aruom 313
moneō 327
aruos 313
mora 32841
atrōx, -ōcis 206
avis 215
nassa 473
cadāuer 310 Neptūnus 209
capere 3194 nex 206
Catamītus 208 noceō, -ēre 206
cervus 219 nocuus 207
commūnis 207 noxa 206
comprehendō 3194 noxius 207
corvus 220 nūbere 28832
cum 248 nunc 3664
nupta 28832
destināre 321 nurus 28726
dōnum 301
pater 28517
emō 32732 plēnus 212
populus 209
fēmina 290 princeps 100
femur, gen. feminis 296 pullus 2819
fīlia 290 purpurae 473
flōs 209 putillus (Plautus) 28622

644 Word Index
queror 242 nertrak 300
puklo- 2819
re- 32525 puklum 28622
religiō 318 SALAVS 218
rota 220 σαλαϝσ 203, 218
VIÍNIKIÍS 206, 209
salūs, -ūtis 219
salvus 203, 218 I.7.8. Umbrian
sapiō 323 eetu /ētu/ 211
sene-k-s 29035 *foβlọ̄ns (Palaeo-Umbrian) 209
sōl 304 MUNEKLU 207
soror 28623 *nehtūns (Palaeo-Umbrian) 209
stāre 100 nertru 300
superstes 318 poplo 209
superstitiō 318 saluom, saluuom 218
superstitiōsus 317, 318 subocau 206
superus 286 uinu 205
utur 309
verbum 16135 VINU = /vīnom/ (acc. sg.) 205, 207, 208, 211,
vīcus 207 218, 222
vieō, -ēre 217 VINU = /vīnu/ (abl. sg.) 205
vīnea 210
Vīnicius 206, 209 I.7.9. Volscian
Vīnucius 206 uinu 205
vīnum 195, 205, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 218,
220, 222 I.7.10. French
vīs 206 savoir 323
vī (abl.) 206, 207
vītis 203, 208, 212 I.7.11. Spanish
vocō, -āre 206 fui 99
vōx 206 muy 99
veo 32833
I.7.4. Faliscan
hec 211 I.7.12. Italian
LOIFIRTA > LOFERTA 207 afferrare 3194
UINO = /vīnom/ 205, 207, 208, 211, 218, 222 capire 3194
UI[NO]M (?) = /vīnom/ (acc. sg.) 205, 207 ri- 32525
uịnụ[cio] 206 sapere 323
I.7.5. Proto-Sabellic I.8. Celtic

*salau̯ o- 218 I.8.1. Continental Celtic
duχtir (Gaulish) 2772
I.7.6. Pre-Samnite vindo- (Gaulish) 205
VINUXS 205, 206, 209 VINOM (Lepontic) 205
VINICIIU 205, 206, 209
I.8.2. Old Irish
I.7.7. Oscan ad-táu, -tó 3207
futír 2772 am(a)ires, amaras 318
MÚÍNÍKÚ 207 arbor, gen. sg. arbe 313

Word Index 645
athair 28517 ǫrn 215
bráth(a)ir 28518
coím 215 I.9.4. Old High German
eter 285 arn 215
ferg 584, 586, 596 aro 215
fín 211 fedara 297
(h)ires(s) 318 hīwa 215
-me 312 metu 203
máthair 28619 namo 309
siur 28623 ottar 311
°tá 3207 rad 220
snur, snora 28726
I.8.3. Welsh speho 212
gennyf (Middle Welsh) 266 stantan 321
gwin 211 stimma 322
pell 219, 220 tenar 300
safn 322 waʓʓar 296
wīn-garto 211
I.9. Germanic
I.9.1. (Pre-)Proto-Germanic I.9.5. Old Saxon
*ar-n- ←*ur-n- 215 farstandan 318
*ar-ō̃ 215 sīmo 200, 216
*sih2-mō̃ 200 watar 296
*stemnō 322
I.9.6. Old English
I.9.2. Gothic otr 311
atta 15522 sīma 200, 216
at-tiuhan 15522 stondan 321
broþar 28518 understandan 318
dauhtar 2772 wīn-geard 211
fadar 28517 wōd 584
filu 212
ga-mains 207 I.9.7. German
hals 220 da 247
munan 327 denn 252
mimz 214 Haus 196
namo 309 sich auflösen 242
skatts 15522 sich beschweren 242
standan 321 sich bilden 242
sunus 28621 sich entfernen 242
swistar 28623 sich erschrecken 242
waurds 16135 sich setzen 242
wein 211 sich überlegen 242
weinnas 206 sich umarmen 242
sich versammeln 242
I.9.3. Old Norse
móðer 28619 I.9.8. English
norðr 300 at that 248
standa 321 beer/three beers 401

646 Word Index
bronze/bronzes 400 I.10.5. Latvian

horse 2602 jentere (Courlandish) 28620
house 196 siẽva 215
I observe 32833
I see 32833 I.11. Slavic
olive 400, 401 I.11.1. Proto-Slavic
pease/peas/pea 400 *děva 289
queen 283
the torch inflames 242 I.11.2. Old Church Slavonic
timber 401 brat(r)ŭ 28518
to assemble 242 vino 211
to complain 242 vinogradŭ 211
to consider 242 vinjaga 211
to embrace 242 darŭ 301
to evolve 242 dŭšti 2772
to get frightened 242 medŭ 203
to remove 242 synŭ 28621
to sit down 242 jętry, gen. sg. jętrŭve 28620
stops 100
I.11.3. Russian Church Slavonic
I.10. Baltic krava 219
I.10.1. Proto-Balto-Slavic snubiti 28832
*kṓru̯ -ā- 219
I.11.4. Serbian Church Slavonic
I.10.2. Old Prussian snŭxa 28726
brāti 28518
souns 28621 I.11.5. Old Russian
swestro 28623 mati, gen. sg. matere 28619
wertemmai 161 snŭxa 28726
wirds 16135
I.11.6. Russian
I.10.3. Old Lithuanian nevesta 28727, 289
dukterés (gen. sg.) 2772 nevestka 287, 289
jéntė, gen. sg. jenter͂s 28620 yatrov’ 28727
mótė, gen. sg. móters 28619
I.12. Albanian
I.10.4. Lithuanian *u̯ oi̯nā (Proto-Albanian) 204
áudžiu, áusti 217 dhëndërr 289
imù 32732 motër 28619
kárvė 219 núse 28726, 289
mer-g-à 29035 vênë (Geg) 204
miniù 327 vérë (Tosk) 204
ū́dras 311
var̃das 16135 I.13. Tocharian
vejù (výti) 217 I.13.1. Proto-Tocharian (Common
vỹnas 211 Tocharian)
vytìs 212 *yätār 309
žãstas 220 *yäsār 309

Word Index 647
I.13.2. Tocharian A batultu 4562, 4565

omäl 308 inu 221
kupre 300 itti libbii dabābu 325
kuryar 310 karānu 200, 221
ckācar 2772 Lulimmu 46117
tāk- 3207 ša rēši 435, 436
pācar 28517 u 222
pracar 28518
mācar 28619 II.2.3. Babylonian
ytār 309 Menâ, mMe-na-͗ 385
ysār 309 Mennâ, mMe-en-na-͗ 385
wmār 308 Minâ, mMi-na-͗ 385
ṣar 28623 Minnâ, mMi-in-na-͗ 385
se, gen.sg. seyo 28621
II.2.4. Assyrian (Old Assyrian unmarked)
I.13.3. Tocharian B Hatti (Assyrian) 45
emalle 308 ḫiluganim 3551
karyor 310 ḫulugannum 354, 360
kwri 300 išḫiulum 36114
tāk- 3207 išpuruzzinnum 354, 360
tkācer 2772 Luḫuzattiya 358
pācer 28517 luḫuzzinnum 354, 355, 360
procer 28518 Lusanda (New Assyrian) 359
malkwer 310 Purušḫattum 358, 36013
mācer 28619
yasar 309 II.2.5. Ugaritic
ytārye 309 )aliyn 59218
wamer 308 arṣ 59218
ṣer 28623 b(l 59218
ṣñor 300 hmry 592
soy 28621 w- 222
ḥy 59218
II. Afroasiatic languages yn = /yēnu/ 221, 223
II.1. Egyptian Lwsnd 359
ỉ-ś-b-(w)-r 3552 mk 592
ḫt 45
ḥ3-l-g-3 3552 II.2.6. Phoenician
ś3-g-3 3576 bl 57
w- 222
II.2. Semitic languages yn = /yēn/ 221, 223
II.2.1. Proto-Semitic
*u̯ ai̯nu 221 II.2.7. Aramaic
harp (Sam’al/Zincirli) 525
II.2.2. Akkadian (unspecified) wə- 222
ambaššu 531, 535, 536 [w-q]dm nkr w-kd’h] (Sfire) 526
anumma 366 yyn (Old Aramaic) 221
ardatu 4562 nbš (Sam’al/Zincirli) 524, 525
argamannu 4718 ngd (Sam’al/Zincirli) 525

648 Word Index
nkr (Sfire) 526 NEΘUNS 209

ṣwd/rn (Sam’al/Zincirli) 525 PAPUI 208
qrpdl (Sam’al/Zincirli) 525 PRUXUM 208
QUTUM 208
II.2.8. Canaanite (Hebrew unmarked) QUTUN 208
wə- 222 -σvla 114
ḥtym 45 TRUIA 208
yyn (yayin) 221, 223 VILATAS 208
i̯e-nu, i̯e-ni (Old Canaanite) 221 Vinacna 206
Vinucenas 206
II.2.9. Arabic VINỤ[M:] 205
ibna 284 VINUM 205, 208, 222, 223
bint 284 VINUN 205, 207, 208, 222, 223
ṢWD 525
ṢYD 525 III.4. Kartvelian
wa- 222 gvini (Mingrelian) 204, 223
wayn 221 γvino (Georgian) 204, 223
*γu̯ ini̯o (Proto-Kartvelian) 195, 204, 223
II.2.10. Other Semitic languages γwnoy, γwinoy = /γu̯ ino-i̯/ (Old
wayən (Ethiopic (Geʻez)) 221 Georgian) 204
wyn, yyn (Old Sabaean) 221
yaqtul (West Semitic) 8535 III.5. Turkic
yaqtula (West Semitic) 8535 III.5.1. Old Turkic
yn = /yēn/ (Samaritan) 221 köz1 305
yn = /yēn/ (Ammonite) 221 köz2 305
közäd- 305
III. Other languages
III.1. Sumerian III.5.2. Azeri
GAM 493 oğlan 284
LU.LIM 46117 qiz 284
LÚ SAG 337, 435, 436, 4362, 4364, 4365, 437,
439, 440, 441, 446 III.6. Mongol
NIN 521 oxin 284
UGU 493
III.7. Salishan (Bella Coola)
III.2. Hurrian łxwtłcxw 1015
ambašši 531, 535, 536, 538, 53835 xscć 1015
keldi 535 xłp̓ x̣ʷłtłpłłskʷc̓ 1015
Tulwišar 87
III.8. Arawakan (Piro)
III.3. Etruscan /whene/ 116
Catmite 208
FUFLUNS 209
ΦUINIS 208

Index of Modern Names
Abel, N. 37 Beckman, G.M. 37423, 37424, 37631, 44842,

Abusch, Tz. 523 5324, 53315, 53731, 545, 5463, 55316, 564,
Adamčík, T. 51, 109, 1111, 1317, 1419, 2138, 565, 5721, 6031, 6032, 6044, 6045
2646 Beekes, R.S.P. 208, 211, 28830
Adiego, I.-X. 95, 96, 97, 98, 981, 99, 100, 105, Belardi, W. 318, 3182, 324, 328, 32836, 329, 330
11110, 113, 114, 11412, 259, 262, 272, 387, Belck, V.W. 63
556, 56434 Beneš, E. 10
Agbayani, B. 241, 242, 246 Bennett, E. 62, 73
Agirre, E. 127 Benveniste, É. 287, 301, 30120, 30121, 303,
Agostiniani, L. 205, 208, 210, 222 30324, 307, 312, 597, 59726
Aikhenvald, A.Y. 32839 Beran, P. 33
Aistleitner, J. 221 Berges, D. 560, 562
Alavi, B. 284 Berlejung, A. 8111, 8746, 8849
Allauzen, C. 13714 Beyer, D. 56
Allen, S.L. 53317 Bilgiç, E. 17
Alp, S. 37836, 37837 Bilgin, T. 4368, 44740
Anthonioz, St. 8432 Billerbeck, M. 559
Anthony, D.W. 67 Blegen, C. 64
Archi, A. 44633, 48913, 492, 533, 59621, 59625, Blevins, J. 100
597 Bloomfield, L. 406
Arık, R.O. 61 Blümel, W. 207, 211, 383, 387, 560, 562
Arkwright, W.G. 384 Böck, B. 60512, 60613, 60618
Arnaud, D. 53210, 535 Boháč, L. 39, 40, 41
Aspesi, F. 196, 221 Boissier, A. 531, 5311, 540, 541, 542
Atatürk, K. 109 Boleli, G. 37
Atterer, M. 5877 Börker-Klähn, J. 554, 55418
Auer, P. 254 Bossert, H. 44, 45, 48, 54, 62, 73, 358, 36012,
Aura Jorro, F. 56434 44530
Bouzek, J. 11, 33, 36, 37, 39
Bagemihl, B. 116, 118 Bowie, A.M. 478
Bagg, A.M. 359, 35912 von Brandenstein, C.-G. 199
Bakkum, G.C.L.M. 205, 206 Brandenstein, W. 386
Balkan, K. 16 Bremmer, J.N. 59113
Ballentine, D.S. 59011 Bresson, A. 560, 561, 56128, 56229
Barber, E.J.W. 7416 Breyer, F. 3552, 3576
Barjamovic, G. 63, 1624, 2440, 358, 359, 35910 Brinker, K. 2518
Barnett, R.D. 577 Brixhe, C. 423, 424, 55622, 573, 577, 5777
Barstad, H.M. 591, 59115 Brogyanyi, B. 196, 223
Bartholomae, C. 30018, 302, 30223, 303 Brugmann, K. 32837
Bawanypeck, D. 462, 46320, 52815 Bryce, T. 4712, 5463, 55316
Beal, R.H. 44426, 44632, 44634 Buck, C.D. 206
Bean, G.E. 55724, 558, 560, 561, 56127, 562, Bürchner, L. 563
563, 564 Burde, C. 60925
Bechtel, F. 386 Burke, B. 47212, 47313
Becker, K. 336 Burkert, W. 282, 590, 59012

650 Index of Modern Names
Çambel, H. 54, 58 Daniels, P.T. 66

Cameron, D.A. 284 Dardano, P. 325, 32524, 32527, 5013, 5027
Cammarosano, M. 122, 5322, 53522 Darga, M. 426
Cardascia, G. 385 von Dassow, E. 8537, 8539
Cardinaletti, A. 351 David, M. 64, 65
Carruba, O. 317, 323, 326, 32628, 32629, 327, Deighton, H. J. 49321
32731, 32841, 329, 32941, 330, 554, 555 Delbrück, B. 32837
Casabonne, O. 35912 Delitzsch, F. 80
Casadio, G. 59011 Della Casa, R. 489, 493, 49523
Casaretto, A. 206 Delvoye, C. 72
Cau, N. 383, 386, 387, 3873 Demand, N. 560, 561
Chadwick, J. 641, 652, 68, 72, 7211, 73, 56434 Demiraj, B. 204
Chafe, W.L. 232 Dentzer, J.-M. 37
Chantre, E. 5, 6, 63, 7, 74, 8, 85, 9, 10, 109, 11, Dentzer-Feydy, J. 36, 37
1110, 12, 13, 26, 28, 540, 54040, 541, 54142 Dercksen, J.G. 14, 16, 2440, 354, 3551, 361,
Chantziara, T. 408, 409 36114
Charvát, P. 374 Detienne, M. 590, 59012
Chomsky, N. 343 Devine, A.M. 407, 408
Christian, V. 80 Dinçol, A.M. 43637
Christiansen, B. 280, 376 Dinçol, B. 43637
Chrzanowska, A. 37218 Dodds, E.R. 409
Clackson, J. 4004 Dowden, K. 282, 283
Clark, I. 287, 288 Draycott, C.M. 573, 578
Clauson, G. 30533 Drexler, W. 391
Clay, A.T. 108 Dufková, M. 33
Cline, E. 5463, 55316 Dumézil, G. 587, 597, 59726
Cohen, D. 221 Dunkel, G. 2664, 30223
Cohen, Y. 8322, 8641, 5325, 5327, 53210, 53211, Dusinberre, E.R.M. 572, 5721, 578
533, 53313 Dyrynk, K. 50
Cole, S.G. 287
Collins, B.J. 2817, 28110, 28415, 456, 4564, Easton, D.F. 5497
46117, 46321, 46524, 493 Edel, E. 6044, 6046
Colpe, C. 59012 Edmonds, P. 127
Comrie, B. 411 Ehmer, O. 253
Coogan, M.D. 590, 592, 59218, 59319 Eichner, H. 808, 16955, 216, 259, 263, 267, 317,
Cook, J.M. 558, 560, 561, 56127, 562, 563, 564 3209, 321, 32112, 322, 323, 404, 419, 421,
Cooper, J. 455, 4551, 456, 4562, 4563, 4564 422, 426, 430, 554, 555
Čop, B. 202, 214, 262, 264, 2643, 32628, 32732, Eidem, J. 2440
32841, 32943 Eliade, M. 4866
Corti, C. 4566, 4577 Emre, K. 18, 27
Cotticelli-Kurras, P. 500, 5203 Engelberg, St. 243
Couto-Ferreira, E. 6044 Ergin, G. 56434
Cowgill, W. 30018 Erol, H. 2440
Crossland, R.A. 32010 Evans, A. 63, 73
Cukr, J. 109 Ezer, S. 2750
Cunliffe, R.J. 405
Cuyckens, H. 3195, 32319 Fanselow, G. 2301
Fedosyuk, Yu. 28727
Dahl, Ö. 28312, 28413 Fellner, H.A. 3972
Dale, A. 4004, 4713, 47629, 47940 Fincke, J. 605, 60510, 61028
d’Alfonso, L. 359 Fisseler, D. 122

Flensted-Jensen, P. 560 Gordin, S. 44022, 44144, 44125

Flobert, P. 208 Gordon, F.G. 641, 83, 87
Forlanini, M. 35912, 55113, 55724, 55824 Goren, Y. 86
Forrer, E.O. 44, 45, 46, 5486 Görke, S. 2487, 4991, 5002, 504, 52815
Forssman, B. 267 Gorton, L. 196, 198, 201, 202, 208, 212, 221, 223
Fortson, B. 253, 25310 Grace, V. 39
Fox, B. 242 Graham, J.W. 2543
Fox, M. 688, 7210 Greppin, J.A.C. 204
Fraenkel, E. 475 Grigg, S. 1828
Francia, R. 317, 324, 32421, 32423, 325, 32525, Groddek, D. 45812, 48914, 552
32526, 326, 329, 330 Grothe, H. 6
Francis, W.N. 121 Gunter, A.C. 572
Frankena, R. 520 Günthner, S. 253
Frantíková, D. 259 Gurney, O.R. 548, 5486, 5508, 55213, 555, 557,
Fraser, P.M. 55724 55724, 590, 59116, 59621
Frazer, J.G. 583, 589, 590, 59116 Gusmani, R. 3209, 321, 32215, 386, 421
Freu, J. 55418 Gustavs, A. 87
Frías, R.R. 13714 Güterbock, H.G. 325, 32525, 5015, 552, 55214,
Friedrich, J. 45, 48, 198, 3664, 53627 5877, 6032, 6044
Frymer-Kensky, T. 456
Fuscagni, F. 464, 46422 Haas, V. 280, 281, 4566, 45812, 46015, 46117,
46321, 485, 48913, 49321, 495, 49522, 522,
Gamkrelidze, T.V. 211 5228, 52815, 53520, 53521, 53734, 5877
Gander, M. 384, 552, 55418, 55420 Hagenbuchner, A. 3688, 3699, 552
García Ramón, J.L. 30737, 32010, 32318, 32839 Hajnal, I. 392, 420, 4202, 426
Garrett, A.J. 124 Halil Edhem Bey 109
Garstang, J. 548, 5486, 5508, 555, 556 Hall, N. 116, 118
Gaster, T. 589, 590, 591, 59218 Hallager, E. 65
Gates, H.Ph. 288 Hamdullah Subhi Bey 109
Geeraerts, D. 3195, 32319 Harðarson, J.A. 205, 215, 216, 4035
Gelb, I. 44, 45, 46, 48, 50, 54, 518, 520, 522, Hart, G. 263, 320
524, 527 Haudry, J. 302, 30222
Geller, M.J. 60619 Hawkins, J. 45, 48, 51, 52, 56, 57, 59, 66, 200,
van Gennep, A. 283 202, 280, 284, 32629, 3589, 35912, 36012,
Gérard, R. 208, 215 389, 435, 4365, 4366, 4368, 43816, 44021,
van Gessel, B.H.L. 514 44428, 44530, 44636, 44637, 457, 45811,
Giles, C.L. 133 4714, 4716, 519, 5193, 520, 5214, 525, 547,
Gilibert, A. 574 5486, 55011, 55215, 554, 555, 572, 573
Giorgadze, G. 4579 Heberdey, R. 384
Giorgieri, M. 16346, 16446, 44844, 507 Hecker, K. 3589, 361
Gippert, J. 204, 220 Heeßel, N.P. 60615, 60723
Giusfredi, F. 131, 32420, 5191, 5192, 61129, 61230 Heinhold-Krahmer, S. 5463
Gleason, H.A. 406 Held, W. 263
Glock, A.E. 81, 8113, 83, 8320, 8323, 84, 8431, Henrickson, R.C. 572
8533, 8536, 87, 8747 Hentschel, E. 283, 28413
Glocker, J. 37221, 45812 Herbordt, S. 44427, 44428, 511
Goedegebuure, P. 258, 265, 336, 366, 3663, Herda, A. 5497, 55925
367, 3687, 373, 374, 375, 376, 378, 379 Hertel, T. 14, 15, 1523, 16, 27, 2749
Goetze, A. 16, 17, 1725, 1726, 1727, 1828, 545, 551, Hess, R. 87, 88
564, 565, 59621 Hillers, D.R. 81, 8113
Golston, Ch. 241, 242, 246 Hirsch, H. 523

Hlaváčová, J. 130 Karasu, C. 60722

Hoch, J.E. 3552, 3576 Karnava, A. 7313, 7517
Hoffman, J.M. 283 Kaufmann, I. 242, 2466
Hoffmann, I. 2819 Kellens, J. 218
Hoffner, H.A. 124, 126, 147, 16954, 1793, 197, Kellerman, G. 5877, 59624, 597
198, 200, 201, 215, 216, 238, 240, 2425, Kemmer, S. 242
244, 246, 248, 2519, 25411, 263, 271, 272, Kennedy, D. 442
279, 355, 366, 367, 3675, 3686, 3688, Khayyata, W. 37
36910, 370, 371, 373, 37425, 375, 378, 379, Kim, R.I. 144, 15522, 223, 398, 481, 495
45915, 4715, 4717, 485, 48913, 49017, 49321, Kimball, S.E. 147, 179, 181, 199, 291, 214, 215,
506, 508, 509, 554, 5877, 588 263, 32010, 32732
Höfler, St. 30531 Klaiman, M. 242
Hopper, P.J. 242, 2466, 25411 Klengel, H. 44741, 6047
Horowitz, W. 794, 8111, 8112, 8114, 8115, 8219, 83, Klíma, J. 44, 51
8321, 8324, 8325, 8643, 88 Klingenschmitt, G. 216, 28729, 289
van den Hout, Th.P.J. 16954, 260, 279, 399, Klinger, J. 492, 6057
4035, 404, 409, 43917, 44021, 44125, 44844, Kloekhorst, A. 105, 1223, 124, 147, 148, 1481,
44946, 45047, 45048, 45050, 512, 53418, 1493, 1505, 1506, 1519, 15110, 15111, 15212,
538, 53837, 5474, 6047, 6059 15319, 15320, 155, 15623, 15624, 157, 15830,
Houwink ten Cate, Ph.H.J. 32525, 383, 387, 388, 159, 161, 16135, 16136, 16238, 16240, 16342,
3887, 389, 43711, 4712, 476, 500, 510, 514 16343, 16346, 16446, 165, 166, 16647, 16648,
Hrozný, B. 1, 5, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20, 16650, 167, 16751, 16753, 169, 16955, 170,
21, 24, 2441, 25, 26, 2646, 27, 28, 32, 33, 34, 17056, 17057, 171, 17163, 17264, 174, 1761, 197,
36, 37, 38, 40, 44, 46, 48, 50, 51, 52, 53, 202, 216, 259, 262, 263, 264, 2643, 265,
54, 55, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 266, 267, 268, 269, 2697, 2698, 2709, 271,
69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 78, 79, 80, 83, 84, 87 278, 31252, 31254, 3206, 3207, 3209, 32114,
Huggard, M. 335, 336, 339, 342, 343, 345, 346, 32732, 354, 3551, 356, 3566, 357, 358,
350, 351, 3518 3587, 3664, 410, 4566, 4865, 488, 55925
Humbach, H. 218 Kober, A. 62, 68, 688, 69, 70, 71, 7210
Hutter, M. 280, 46320, 508, 511 Koehler, L. 221
Kohler, E.L. 575
Imdi-ilum s. Šu-Laban 14 Kölligan, D. 206
Imparati, F. 44426 Koptjevskaja-Tamm, M. 28312, 28413
Inglese, G. 122, 1223, 124, 131 Korfmann, M. 47316
Kossinna, G. 67
Jacobs, J. 236 Kottsieper, I. 524, 525
Jacoby, F. 47212 Kourouniotis, K. 64
Jamison, S.W. 29035 Kouwenberg, N.J.C. 1492, 354, 361
Janda, M. 28623, 287, 28829 Kraeling, C. 1726
Jaro, M.A. 136, 137, 139, 140, 141, 144 Krebernik, M. 126
Jasanoff, J.H. 30843, 32010 Kreuzer, S. 792, 80
Jeffreys, M.D.W. 28933, 28934 Krisch, Th. 2301
Jian Liu 4579 Kronasser, H. 179, 1827, 29914, 32114
Johnson, M. 319, 32317, 32319, 32942 Krušina-Černý, J. 38
Junker, H.F.J. 284 Kryszeń, A. 55418
Krzyszkowska, O. 654
Kaalep, H.J. 126 Kučera, H. 121
Kalinka, E. 384 Kulakoğlu, F. 1828, 2544, 2750
Kammenhuber, A. 27212, 29813 Kullanda, S. 287
Kapelrud, A.S. 59218 Kümmel, M.J. 16752, 1816, 32422

Labarre, G. 363, 391, 3919 Manning, S.W. 1830

Lackenbacher, S. 4717 Manoliu, M.M. 410
Lakoff, G. 319, 3195, 32317, 32319, 32942 Marazzi, M. 366, 3664, 3687
Lamante, S. 535, 53522, 53526, 537 Marchetti, N. 526, 527, 528
Landsberger, B. 16, 59116 Marinatos, S. 62, 73
Lane, E.N. 391 Marizza, M. 44844
Lang, E. 235 Markman, E.M. 406
Langacker, R.W. 319, 3195 Marstrander, C.J.S. 298, 2988, 2989, 29810,
Lapp, P. 81 29811
Laroche, E. 48, 56, 57, 124, 200, 360, 36012, de Martino, S. 37733, 45050, 495
382, 383, 385, 387, 388, 3887, 390, 510, Martirosyan, H.K. 204
514, 541, 5474, 5898, 59621 Masaryk, T.G. 10
Larsen, M.T. 51, 108, 14, 1421, 16, 123 Masson, E. 525
Lawrence, S. 133 Matasović, R. 398
Lazard, G. 410 Matouš, L. 108, 1316, 64, 66
Lazzeroni, R. 3193 Matzinger, J. 204
Lebrun, R. 5497, 55011, 55925 Mazoyer, M. 5877
Ledo-Lemos, F.J. 398 McCawley, J. 406
Lehmann-Haupt, C. 63 McGovern, P.E. 196
Lejeune, M. 205, 5777 McNicoll, A.W. 56127, 56332
Leslau, W. 221 Mehmed, H. 13, 14, 16
Levenshtein, V.I. 136, 13612, 137, 138, 141, 144 Meillet, A. 298, 29812, 398, 411
Levin, J. 116, 118 Meiser, G. 206, 209
Liebhart, R.F. 577 Mellink, M.J. 2648, 27, 572, 575, 577
Lipiński, E. 221 Melchert, H.C. 48, 54, 118, 124, 126, 147, 153,
Lipp, R. 196, 204, 206, 212, 213, 214, 216, 217, 154, 169, 177, 179, 181, 197, 198, 200, 201,
219, 220, 223 202, 203, 214, 215, 216, 223, 246, 2519,
Lloyd, S. 2545 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268,
Löbner, S. 2518 272, 281, 2819, 306, 31254, 320, 321, 32732,
Lohmann, J. 285 36013, 366, 367, 391, 396, 397, 398,
Lombardo, M.V. 13714 399, 405, 408, 410, 457, 45710, 45915,
Love, I.C. 56433 4712, 477, 47735, 48912, 493, 510, 514,
Lowe, J. 351 53627, 53939, 5441, 555, 55723, 56331, 588,
Lühr, R. 236, 242 59520, 598
Luís, A.R. 339, 351 Mellaart, J. 2545
Luraghi, S. 398, 410 Meriç, R. 550, 55010, 55012
Lynn, B. 283 Meriggi, P. 44, 45, 46, 48, 53, 54, 389
Lyutikova, E. 3465 Messerschmidt, L. 45
Mettinger, T.N.D. 59012
MacKenzie, D.N. 28414 Meynersen, F. 374
Macqueen, J.G. 5909 Michel, C. 19, 1934, 21, 23, 24, 2439
MacRae, A.A. 522 Michel, P.M. 5326, 5328, 5329, 53210, 53212,
Maggi, D. 318 53734, 53836
Maienborn, C. 232 Mielke, D.P. 2545
Mair, A.W. 474, 47420 Milanova, V. 4578
Mallory, J.P. 67 Miller, J.L. 366, 37117, 37219, 37732, 4364, 4368,
Malul, M. 4551 4379, 43712, 43814, 43815, 44843, 44945,
Malzahn, M. 31049 450, 458, 46015, 47210, 494, 495, 500, 501,
Mandell, A.H. 8539 5013, 502, 508
Mannhardt, W. 589 Molina, M. 131, 336, 340

del Monte, G.F. 200, 358, 359, 390, 55113 Özgüç, T. 5, 51, 8, 9, 12, 1212, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,
Montelius, O. 67 18, 1828, 1829, 1831, 1832, 19, 1933, 20, 2035,
de Moor, J.C. 591, 59115 2036, 21, 2138, 22, 24, 25, 2544, 2647, 27,
Moran, W.L. 85 2750, 28, 57
Morandi Bonacossi, D. 794
Morpurgo Davies, A. 57, 16955, 5214 Page, D.L. 47736, 478
Moscati, S. 221, 222 Palaima, T.G. 69, 71, 47315
Mountjoy, P. 55010 Palmer, E. 795, 807
Mouton, A. 46015 Palmer F.R. 406
Mubarek Bey 109 Pancheva, R. 339
Müller, D.H. 80 Pardee, D. 525, 52512
Munn, M. 576 Parker, R. 382
Muscarella, O.W. 571, 578 Parker, S.B. 59010, 59218
Musil, J. 33 Parpola, A. 65
Myres, J. 63, 73 Patri, S. 147, 3552, 3993
Paulus, S. 527
Na’aman, N. 88 Payne, A. 5192, 5193
Naumann, F. 575, 576 Pecchioli Daddi, F. 4368, 43815, 44021, 44124,
Neve, P. 2545 443, 4562, 485, 49118
Neri, S. 198, 203, 204, 212, 213, 219, 220, 223 Pecora, L. 25310
Neu, E. 163, 16346, 16446, 180, 182, 197, 271, Pedersen, H. 30018, 302, 30324, 3207, 32010
272, 1688 Peled, I. 4368, 460, 46016, 46117
Neumann, G. 57, 199, 383, 384, 385, 387, 388, Pérez Orozco, S. 419, 421, 422, 423, 429, 4295,
390, 392, 413, 419, 421, 422, 423, 426, 430, 430
469, 477 Perpillou, J.-L. 203
Neve, P. 2545 Persson, A. 641
Niehr, H. 524, 525 Petersson, H. 30119
Nikel, J. 526 Petraš, V. 108, 109, 11, 13, 14
Nikolaev, A. 30531 Philips, L. 136
Nollé, J. 417, 419, 4203, 421, 422, 423, 424, 426, Pinault, G.-J. 285, 28516, 286, 290, 29035,
430 30016, 30531, 308, 30840, 30841, 30842,
Nougayrol, J. 56 30945, 310, 31049
Nováková, N. 38, 396 Pirenne-Delforge, V. 48041
Nussbaum, A. 217, 285, 305, 306, 308, 309, Plöchl, R. 278, 2784
405, 410 Poetto, M. 200, 214, 223, 32629, 328
Poli, D. 3181
Oettinger, N. 176, 177, 178, 1804, 1815, 197, 198, Polinsky, M. 411
202, 214, 264, 29913, 30325, 306, 31048, Polvani, A.M. 485, 49118
31252, 320, 3206, 3209, 326, 5463 Pope, M. 68
Ofitsch, M. 45914 Popko, M. 2487, 492, 49220, 510
Olivier, J.-P. 7314, 74, 7517 Poulkou, M. 282
del Olmo Lete, G. 221 Pozza, M. 223, 317, 3208, 32011
Olsen, B.A. 204 Prechel, D. 532, 5325, 534, 53419
Oreshko, R. 47939, 544, 5509, 55215, 55317, Prins, A. 4035
554, 55824 Pruzsinszky, R. 781, 8744, 8746
Orthmann, W. 37, 573 Puhvel, J. 16135, 16136, 16239, 16346, 198, 267,
Oshima, T. 8112, 83 321, 322, 3664, 4718, 4865, 508
Osolsobě, K. 1328 Purves, P.M. 522, 5227
Otten, H. 197, 27212, 44021, 47211, 492, 512,
536, 53628, 53629, 5877, 60722 Rabin, C. 221
Özgüç, N. 16, 22, 26, 2647, 2648 Race, W.H. 409

Raffinot, M. 13714 Segert, St. 373, 793, 808, 81

Rahmati, N. 284 Sellin, E. 11, 78, 79, 80, 81
Rainey, A.F. 83, 84, 87 van Selms, A. 221
Rastorguyeva, G.S. 28414 Seton-Williams, M.V. 38, 385
Ratcliff, J.W. 136, 13616, 137 Ševoroškin, V. 4203
Reese, D.S. 47212, 47313 Shelmerdine, C.W. 56434
Richter, Th. 507 Shi, X. 2440
Riddell, J. 404 Sideltsev, A.V. 335, 336, 339, 340, 342, 3424,
Rieken, E. 16954, 201, 259, 263, 267, 271, 272, 343, 345, 346, 347, 3477, 349, 350, 351
27211, 281, 29914, 306, 30838, 31254, 32840, Siegelová, J. 44739, 506
366, 3662, 3663, 3664, 367, 369, 37013, Sihler, A.L. 207
37116, 378, 37835, 379, 43710, 4566, 45812, Silvestri, D. 197, 200, 32834
485, 4864, 4879, 48710, 49016, 49017, 493, Simon, Zs. 259, 261, 263, 265, 267, 3552,
506, 507, 556, 5898 36114
van Riemsdijk, H. 2301 de Simone, C. 208
Robert, L. 63, 383, 386, 47732 Simpson, E. 574, 576
Roche-Hawley, C. 86 Singer, I. 3412, 3413, 43710, 44426, 469, 470,
Roller, L.E. 575, 5754, 576, 577 4701, 4717, 4718, 472, 4729, 47212, 47313,
Rose, C.B. 47938 47315, 47317, 47627, 478, 480, 500
Rössler, O. 52513, 526 Sivan, D. 222
von Rüden, C. 2442 Smith, M.L. 86
Ruscillo, D. 47313 Smith, M.S. 590, 59114, 59116, 592, 59217,
Rüster, C. 182, 197, 500 59218, 59319
Rutherford, I.C. 4577, 4579 Smith, S. 109
Snell, B. 409
Sager, S.F. 2518 Snoj, M. 289
Salač, A. 38 von Soden, W. 179, 1827, 590
Sams, G.K. 571, 573, 5732, 574, 5743, 575, 577, van Soldt, W. 85, 88
578 Solinas, P. 205
Sanders, S. 8219, 83 Sommer, F. 259, 366
Sass, B. 5788 Sommerstein, A.H. 282, 283
Savaş, S.Ö. 35912, 36012 Součková, J. 53526
Sayce, A.H. 45, 46 Sourvinou-Inwood, Ch. 283
Schaeffer, C.F.-A. 56 Soysal, O. 4365
Schaffer, A. 83 Spencer, A. 339, 351
Schindler, H.J. 217, 218, 266, 303, 30326, 30327, Spencer, N. 4712, 47938
304, 30428, 30429, 30430, 305, 30531, 309 Speyer, A. 2301
Schliemann, H. 61, 473, 47316 Starke, F. 202, 203, 262, 277, 2771, 280,
Schmalstieg, W. 263 2819, 326, 351, 361, 36115, 3664, 443,
Schmidt, E. 1213 44426, 457, 4578, 4716, 521, 5214, 5497
Schmidt, J. 297, 309, 402, 403 Stawell, F.M. 641
Schmidt, M. 383 Steer, Th. 31151
Schmitt, R. 204, 383, 509, 510 Stefanini, R. 45049
Schneider, Th. 3552 Steinherr, F. 442
Schulze, W. 206 Steitler, C.W. 485, 495
Schürr, D. 11110, 384, 555, 557 Sturgeon, A. 346, 3466
Schwemer, D. 523, 53315, 59929, 6031, 6045, Sturtevant, E.H. 149, 16135, 261, 298, 320,
6058, 60621, 608, 61331 32010, 32011, 32215, 32723
Schweyer, A.-V. 383 Süel, A. 553, 55316, 55317
Scurlock, J. 60512, 60614, 60615, 60616, 60617, Summers, G.D. 573, 575, 578
60618 Sundwall, J. 382, 384, 386, 387, 389

Sürenhagen, D. 53520 Wackernagel, J. 230, 231, 232, 233, 235, 238,

Sweetser, E. 32318, 328 239, 240, 254, 401, 404, 406, 410
Szemerényi, O. 207, 285, 28622, 29813, 309, 312 Ware, R. 406
Watkins, C. 30018, 31254, 3206, 3207, 399, 404,
Taggar-Cohen, A. 2818, 28311, 385, 4566, 408, 47940
45812, 46423, 45812, 534, 53418 Watson, W.G.E. 3552
Talmy, L. 3195 Webster, N. 260
Tani, N. 45049, 45051 Weeden, M. 265, 281, 356, 3589, 359, 35911,
Taracha, P. 37014, 47210, 512, 514, 555, 5877 35912, 4364, 44021, 6047
Tatevosov, S. 3465 Wegner, I. 53525
Tavernier, J. 388, 391 Weidner, E. 80, 809
Tawakkulī, Ḥ. 289 Weiss, M. 17160
Taylor, J. 3195 Werner, R. 503, 50312, 508
Teffeteller, A. 401, 402, 4056, 4066, 407, 408, Westenholz, J.G. 521, 5215, 522, 5227, 5228,
4713, 47940 523, 5239, 524, 52411, 526
Thurmair, M. 237 Whitney Green, A.R. 53316, 53520
Tibiletti Bruno, M.G. 205 von Wilamowitz, U. 470, 47631
Tichy, E. 285, 4035 Wilhelm, G. 510, 522, 60621, 60723
Tischler, J. 16346, 200, 321, 358, 359, 3664, 383, Will, E. 59012
384, 385, 388, 390, 392, 4853, 4865, 510 Williams, C. 47312
Tjerkstra, F.A. 246 Williams, H. 47312
van der Toorn, K. 8115 Winckler, H. 6, 12, 46, 80, 84
Torczyner, H. 80 Wisniewski, E.J. 401, 406
Torri, G. 43917, 440, 44018, 44020, 44124, 44125, Wittke, A.-M. 577
49219, 4991, 5002, 504 Woodard, R. 584, 5851, 5862, 5863, 5864,
Tremblay, X. 29915 5875, 5876, 59622, 59623, 597, 59726,
Trémouille, M.-C. 383 59727, 599
Trigger, B.G. 67 Woolley, L. 2442
Uhlich, J. 205 Yakubovich, I. 1223, 1804, 181, 202, 223,

Ünal, A. 506, 507 264, 2783, 2784, 281, 31252, 382, 5193,
525, 556
de Vaan, M. 210, 28832 Yamada, M. 5323
Valério, M. 55622 Yates, A. 263, 336
Van Quickelberghe, É. 36012 Yoshida, K. 1816
Van Windekens, A.J. 30839 Young, R.S. 578
Vanséveren, S. 16954, 356
Vassileva, M. 579 Zaccagnini, C. 6043
Veenhof, K.R. 2440 Zadok, R. 87
Veldhuis, N. 60924 Zalizniak, A.A. 284, 28413
Velhartická, Š. 60 Zamora, J.-Á. 221
Vendryes, J. 3207, 329 Zehnder, Th. 278, 383, 385, 389, 390,
Ventris, M. 68, 70, 72, 73, 74, 47314 510
Vernet, E. 354, 360 Zemánek, P. 131, 221
Vernet, M. 354, 360 Zgusta, L. 383, 386, 388, 340, 55926
Versnel, H.S. 287 Zinko, Ch. 179, 421, 4234
Vietze, H.-P. 284 Zinko, M. 425
Vita, J.-P. 8426, 8431, 85, 8534, 8536, 86, 8640 Zorman, M. 28516
Voigt, M.M. 196, 572, 576 Zucha, I. 215, 216
Voigt, R. 526 Zuntz, L. 53734
de Vries, B. 485 Zurbach, J. 653

Index of Historical and Mythological Names
Adonis 589, 590, 59116, 592 (A)šuta 442

Aeschylus 475 Ātanah-ilī 82
Ahiami 81, 82 Athena 282
Ala 512 Athenaeus 470, 479
Alalimi 442, 512 Atpa 471
Alalimmi 512 Attis 589, 590
Alamuwa 512 Aza-Tarḫunta 442
Alantalli 512, 55113
Alcaeus 47940 Baal 583, 591, 592, 59217, 59218, 593, 594, 598,
Alexander Severus 37 600
Aliziti 439 Baba 520
Amanḫatpa 82, 84 Bar-Ga’yah 525
Ammā 455, 458, 464, 466 Batraz 586, 597
Ammiḫatna 501 Bellerophon 587
Ana[…] 442 Biridiya 85
Anacreon 48045 Bona Dea 586, 596
Anamu(wa) 442 Bṛhaspati 585, 595, 596
Anat 593
Anatali 44531 Cacus 586, 596
Angulli 441 Croesus 47318
Aniwa/ina 442 CúChulainn 586, 596, 597, 598
Anna 511
Anniwiyanni 455, 458, 460, 462, 463 Daḫagu 531
Anuwanza 4362, 4363, 439, 440, 44018, 44021, Daḫagunanu 531, 53731
441, 444, 446 Daḫangaili 53731
Anzapaḫaddu 55113 Daḫangauili 53731
[…]anzi-Tešup 439 Damu 522, 523
Aphrodite 469, 470, 472, 479, 480 Dānavas 586
Apollo 407, 47318, 561, 56229 Dapara 55622
Appu 506, 507 Darius I 385
Ar(a/i)li 442 Darius II 385
Ares 586 Demeter 281, 590
Ari-Šarruma 512 Dumuzi 59116
Arma 511, 512, 513
Armapiḫami 442 Ea 519
Arma-piya(ma) 512 Eḫli-Addu 87
Arma-Tarḫunta 450 Eḫli-Šarruma 512
Armawalwi 442, 44531 Ehli-Teššup 81, 87
Armaziti 5721 El 592, 593
Arnuwanda I 37733, 494 Elija 52714
Artemis 283 EN-Šarruma 512
Asherah 593
Astiruwa 519 Fannall 586
Asura 586 Foill 586

658 Index Of Historical And Mythological Names
Gimil-Ninkarrak 522 Ini-Teššub 513
Girra 526 Innara 511
Gula 518, 520, 522, 523, 524, 52410, 526, 527, In(n)arawa 442
529 Inzak 521
Guli-Addu 87 Iqīša-dNinkarrak 522
Gulšeš 596 Isebel 52714
Gunura 520 Išḫara 472, 47210, 533
Ištar 325, 472, 47210, 512, 522
Hadad 524, 525, 526 Iyarinu 442
Hecataeus 470 Iyarri 511, 513
Hercules 586, 596, 597 Iyatar(a)wa 442
Herodian 409 Izzummi 511
Herodotus 404, 586
Hesychius 203, 212, 216, 218, 474, 47523, 47524 Kadašman-Enlil II 604
Homer 401, 403, 404, 480, 587 Kamani 519
Hudusi 390 Kamrušepa 588, 595, 596, 59621
Ḫalba-muwa 5474 Kantuzzili 437
Ḫalki 281, 492 Kapi-Dagan 532
Ḫannaḫanna 4866, 493, 541, 5877, 588, 595, Kaška-muwa 5474
596, 597 Kizi[…] 439
Ḫannu 514 Kiz[i…] 442
Ḫannutti 514 Kore 281
Ḫantašepa 533 Kronos 480
Ḫantitassu 501, 502 Kubaba 519, 520, 524, 525, 528, 576, 577
Ḫapatiwalwi 440 Kulazi/a 442
Ḫarana-muwa 5474 Kumarbi 507
Ḫašamili 491, 492, 493, 495 Kupanta-dKAL 199
Ḫattuša-LAMMA 512, 513 Karhuha 519
Ḫattuša-muwa 5474 Kurunta 447, 449, 450, 511, 512
Ḫattušili 44741 Kuttamuwa 518, 524, 525
Ḫattušili III 268, 279, 437, 439, 512, 53317, Kuwanni 501, 502
53520, 55213, 55824, 604 Kuwatalla 501
Ḫebat 502, 511 Kybele 575, 576, 577, 578
Ḫešmi-Šarruma 512
Ḫešni 450, 451 Lamaštu 523, 527, 613
Ḫudarla 360, 361 Laṣ 526
Ḫudurla 360, 361 Latarak 521
Ḫuḫa-armati 512 Lelwani 492
Ḫukkana 374, 37424, 376 Leviathan 592
Ḫupašiya 48913 Litan 592
Ḫuwarlu 46016, 462 Lula(ku) 442
Ḫuwaršanašši 551, 552 Lycurgus 587
Ḫuzziya 514
Ma…la 442
Iašdata 85 Madduwatta 34234, 37423, 551, 55316, 556,
Ibri-Šarrumma 512, 513 56434
Il 526 Mami… 442
Ilyan 526 Manapa-Tarḫunta 469, 4701, 471, 4716, 472,
Inara 48913, 521 476, 478, 479, 480
Indra 400, 583, 584, 585, 586, 594, 595, 596, Marduk 523, 526, 590
597, 598, 59828, 599 Mars 5851

Index Of Historical And Mythological Names 659
Mašaya 442 Nintinugga 520
Mašturi 448 Nus]ku 526
Matar 575, 576, 577, 579
Mati‘-IL 525 Oppian 4004, 469, 474, 47420, 475
Megimaššu 385 Osiris 589, 590
Meli-Šipak 527 Ouranos 480
Melqart 59116
Meskilak 521 Pa-á-G. 195, 442
Midas 576, 5766, 578 Palla 439, 441, 44123, 444, 446
Miḫanti 442 Paškuwatti 37322, 455, 458, 459, 460, 26016,
Mita 573 461, 463, 46320, 466
Mittana-muwa 5474, 5484 Persephone 590
Mizramuwa 44529, 44531, 5474 Philippus Arabus 37
Mot 592, 593, 594 Piyama-K(u)rundiya 547, 548
Mulissu 526 Piyamaradu 471, 4715, 4716, 555
Muršiliš II 199, 250, 268, 270, 325, 3424, 437, Piḫami 511
448, 450, 492, 533, 544, 545, 546, 547, Piḫamuwa 442
548, 550, 553, 554, 556, 557, 56230, 563, Piḫa-Tarḫunta 4365, 439, 442, 513
564, 566 Pirwa 45812
Muršiliš iii 447 Pliny 199, 473, 475, 47523
Muški 573 Puduḫepa 199, 44741, 45052
Muwatalli II 231, 233, 237, 239, 245, 246, Pukana 442
447, 448, 450, 469, 471, 4713, 500, Pulli 367
5474, 604 Pupuwanni 462
Puranda-muwa 5474, 5484, 558
Nabû 526 Puriyanni 501
Nahuṣa 585, 586, 597
Namuci 586 Ramses II 45052, 55824
Nanuwa 439, 442 RI-PI-SUR (Talwašur) 87
Nebukadnezar ii 534 Runtiya 511
Nechta Scéne 586
Negamaršu 385 Sappho 204, 469, 470, 472, 475, 476, 476, 477,
Nêr 526 478, 479, 480
Nergal 526 Sariya 44531
Nerikkaili 44741, 449 Ṣarpanitu 526
Nikalmati 528 Scorpius-Išḫara 613
Ni-kà-ra-ak 521, 523 Sebettu 526
fNi-kara-ak-um-mi 522 Semo Sancus 586, 596, 597
Nikarawa 518, 519, 5193, 520, 521, 523, 524, Sili-Ninkarrak 522
525, 526, 527, 528 Sî[n 526
Nikaruha 520 Stephan of Byzantium 559
Nikkal 526 Storm-god 371, 37221, 485, 486, 487, 4877,
Ningal 528 488, 490, 491, 492, 493, 494, 538, 552,
Nin-Isina 518, 520, 522, 523, 529 587, 5877, 588, 591, 592, 595, 596
dNinkar 521 Sun-god 372, 484, 485, 4852, 486, 487, 491,
dNin-kar-ak 521, 5215 49118, 492, 493, 494, 495, 588, 590
dNin-kár(-ra) 521 Sun-goddess 43710
Ninkarrak 518, 520, 521, 522, 523, 524, 526, Śacī 585, 596, 597
527, 528, 529 Śakra 586
Ninkilil 523 Śambara 586
dNin-ni-ka-ra-ak 521, 5339 Šaḫurunuwa 44529, 449

660 Index Of Historical And Mythological Names
Šamaš 524, 526 Tiwad 511

Šarišša 492 Tuachell 586
Šariya 442 Tudḫaliya I 528
Šarrumaš-LAMMA 513 Tudḫaliya IV 199, 435, 439, 447, 44741,
Šarrumma 511, 512, 513 448, 449, 450, 451, 512, 531, 533, 53317,
Šatuḫa 442 536, 539
Šaušga 511, 512, 513 Tutula 597
Šaušga-ziti 512, 513 Tuwarsai 5192
Šauškamuwa 448, 512 Tuwattaziti 4362, 439, 440, 441
Šauškaruntiya 44844 Tuwazi/a 443
Šawoška 535
Šu-dNin-kar-ak 521 Uḫḫa-zidi 545, 546, 547, 548
ŠU-dNin-kar-ra 521 Uku 443
Šu-dNin-kar-ra-ak 521 Uliliyassi 458, 46015
Šuppiluliumma I 3424, 374, 448, 547 Ullikummi 325, 507
Ulmi-Tešup 441, 450
Ta 443 Umma 523
Tabala-Zunauli 544, 5463, 547, 550, 563, Unki 45812
56433, 565 Upaśruti 585, 596, 597
Taki-Šarruma 512 Uppara-muwa 514
Talwašor 87 Ur-bal-la 521
Talwašur 81, 82, 87 Urḫi-Tešup 447, 448, 450, 45048
Tammuz 589, 590, 592
Tanuḫepa 450 Vahagn 586
Taprammi 4363, 4365, 439, 443, 44531 Vala 586
Tarḫunni 510 VIR.x-zi/a 44531
Tarḫunt (Tarhunt) 262, 388, 519, 520, 5203, Viṣṇu 586
525 Vṛtra 583
Tarḫunta 510, 511, 513
Tarḫunta-Mimma 513 Warpalawa 521
Tarḫuntanani 439, 443, 44531, 513 Waršama 18
Tarḫunta-piya 513 Wurušemu 53420
Tarkasnawa 521
Tarupašani 443 Xenophanes 47318, 480
Tarupaššani 511
Ta[šmētu 526 Yarri 388, 513
Tašmi-Šarruma 512 Yarrazalma 513
Tatta 514 Yarra-ziti 513
Tattamaru 514
Telipinu 237, 246, 27212, 370, 485, 4866, 489, Za? 443
491, 49118, 493, 494, 583, 587, 5877, 588, Zaballi 55113
589, 590, 5909, 59011, 59218, 594, 595, Zeus 403, 475
596, 597, 598, 59828, 599 Zidanna/i- 510
Teššub 507, 511, 512, 513 Zi-li-ni-ka-ra-ak 522
Theopompus 47212 Zimri-Lim 522
Thutmose III 82 Zu-Ba‛la 534
Tiglatpileser III 52513 Zuwanna 443
Tilapa 385 Zuwanni 443
Tišpak 521 Zuzzu 439, 45052
Titiwatti 281, 45812 Zuzzulli 439

Index of Text Passages
Adapa-Epos Fragment D 16’–17’ 522 BOR §4 525

Aesch(ylus) Ag. 355–361 475 BOYBEYPINARI 1 48
Aesch. Ag. 959–961 47312 BOYBEYPINARI 2 48
Aesch. Ag. 960 47422 BT (Bronze Tablet) see Bo 86/299
Aesch. Pers. 49 409 BULGARMADEN §16 520
AKPINAR 2 443
Alcm(an) fr. 1.64–68 47318 Callixenus 2 47421
Alcm. fr. 26.4 48044 CEKKE §24 519
Alcm. fr. 129.13 478 Clem(ens Alexandrinus) Protr. 2.13.3 5766
ANKARA 1 48 Codex Hammurabi 50–69 522
Ar(istophanes) Eq. 1150a 47423 CTH 2 §§21, 25 44738
Ar. Lys. 641–647 282 CTH 19 231
Arist(otle) HA 528a.10 47422 CTH 19, Vs. i 10 235
Arist. HA 547a.4–5 473 CTH 19, Vs. i 12 235
Arist. HA 548a.12 47421 CTH 19, Vs. i 19–20 232
Arist. HA 569a.10–14 561 CTH 19, Vs. i 35 252
Arist. HA 569a.13 561 CTH 19, Vs. i 39–40 233
Arnob(ius) Adv. Nat. 2.73 5766 CTH 19, Vs. i 42 250
Ath(enaeus) 9.410d–f 470 CTH 19, Vs. i 55 249
Ath. 13.604b 47733 CTH 19, Vs. i 58–61 252
CTH 61.II.4 336
Bo 86/299 (BT) obv. ii 25 338 CTH 61.II.7 43711
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 31 513, 514 CTH 67 348
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 32 512 CTH 68.C 347
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 33 514 CTH 68.E 341
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 34 512 CTH 76.A 342
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 35 512 CTH 81.A 344
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 36 512 CTH 105 245, 448
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 37 512 CTH 105 ii 10–14 44842
Bo 86/299 (BT) iv 38 513 CTH 105, Vs. i 40–42 245
Bo 2710 537 CTH 106.A 449
Bo 3481 I 8–10 538 CTH 106.B 449
Bo 4120 r. col. 4 277, 2771, 279 CTH 106.I.1 338
BoHa 14 no. 308 443 CTH 123.A 336
BoHa 14 no. 309 442 CTH 187 44123
BoHa 22 no. 97 442 CTH 188 338
BoHa 22 no. 98B 443 CTH 191 471
BoHa 22 no. 103 442 CTH 225 440, 449
BoHa 22 no. 189 44531 CTH 245.2 447
BoHa 22 no. 215 443 CTH 255.1 437, 445, 439, 450
BoHa 22 no. 227 442 CTH 255.1 §23 44738
BoHa 22 no. 245 442 CTH 255.1.A 337, 345, 347
BoHa 22 no. 264 442 CTH 255.2 437, 443, 445, 448, 450
BoHa 22 no. 300 442 CTH 255.2.A 348, 350
BoHa 22 no. 330 442 CTH 257 494

662 Index Of Text Passages
CTH 258.1.A 349 CTH 381, Rs. iv 59 233

CTH 260.2 349 CTH 382.A 341, 348
CTH 277.6.A 349 CTH 383 53733
CTH 293 231 CTH 383.1 341, 350
CTH 293, I 10 248 CTH 393 2817, 458
CTH 293, I 13–14 251 CTH 395 501
CTH 293, I 18–20 253 CTH 395.1 §24 501
CTH 293, I 24 252 CTH 398 46219
CTH 293, I 26 251 CTH 406 2817, 458
CTH 293, I 27–28 251 CTH 408.B.1 46218
CTH 293, I 28 243 CTH 413 499, 503
CTH 293, I 29–30 232 CTH 414 499
CTH 293, I 30–31 245 CTH 443 231
CTH 293, I 37 241 CTH 443, Vs. i 33–34 234
CTH 293, III 35 247 CTH 443, Vs. ii 12 233
CTH 310.5 43710 CTH 443, Vs. ii 16 250
CTH 321 4877 CTH 443, Vs. ii 43–44 238
CTH 322 485, 486, 492, 495, 590 CTH 443, Vs. ii 62 243
CTH 323 484, 485, 4852, 486, 487, CTH 443, Rs. iii 20 234
489, 491, 49118, 492, 493, 494, CTH 443, Rs. iii 23–24 248
495, 588 CTH 443, Rs. iii 50 238
CTH 323.1 487, 4878, 488, 48811 CTH 447 231
CTH 324 4866, 487, 489, 490, 494, 583, CTH 447, A2, 27–28 240
587 CTH 447, A2, 29–30 248
CTH 324.1 §8’ 62 487 CTH 447, A2, 33–34 250
CTH 325 486, 490, 491, 493 CTH 447, A3, 18 250
CTH 328 4566, 45812 CTH 447, B2, 38–40 249
CTH 330.1.M 45812 CTH 447, B4, 5 248
CTH 331 493 CTH 450 49040
CTH 331.1 490 CTH 456.2.1 458, 464
CTH 334.2.1 541 CTH 461 61026, 613
CTH 363.2 492 CTH 470 45812
CTH 371 43710 CTH 494 528
CTH 381 231, 500 CTH 511 514
CTH 381, Vs. i 1–2 231 CTH 537 606
CTH 381, Vs. i 2–4 244 CTH 560 44123
CTH 381, Vs. i 4–5 247 CTH 563.1.A 44633
CTH 381, Vs. i 5–6 235 CTH 569 449, 45047
CTH 381, Rs. iii 18–19 239 CTH 577 338, 341
CTH 381, Rs. iii 28–29 244 CTH 584 337, 388
CTH 381, Rs. iii 41–42 243 CTH 587 446
CTH 381, Rs. iii 44 237 CTH 594 535
CTH 381, Rs. iii 45–47 240, 241 CTH 618.1 49220
CTH 381, Rs. iii 48 245 CTH 627 538
CTH 381, Rs. iii 57–58 239 CTH 636.2 538
CTH 381, Rs. iii 62–64 244 CTH 636.3 538
CTH 381, Rs. iii 64–67 236 CTH 639 2818, 4566, 45812
CTH 381, Rs. iii 73–74 2312, 233 CTH 647 514

Index Of Text Passages 663
CTH 667 4566, 4577 Eur. Hec. 566–567 288

CTH 670 44123, 36217 Eur. Hel. 1358ff. 409
CTH 671 493 Eur. Phoen. 349 409
CTH 672 535, 53526, 538
CTH 678 537 FHL 16:2’–3’ 4362
CTH 725 499, 503
CTH 726 499 (Aulus) Gell(ius) Noctes Atticae X 23, 1 210
CTH 726.1 492 Heraclitus fr. 10 402
CTH 800 606, 607 Heraclitus fr. 126 402
CTH 801 607 H(ero)d(o)t(us) 1.50 47318
CTH 802 607 Hdt. 3.22 47422
CTH 804 607 Hdt. 4.62 586
CTH 804.A 523 Hdt. 6.100 403
CTH 805 607 Hes(iod) Sc. 297 403
CTH 806 606, 607 Hes. Th. 188–206 48042
CTH 808 607, 609 Hes. Th. 197–198 48042
CTH 809 606, 607, 610, 613 Hes. Works and Days 216–217 402-403
CTH 810 606, 607 Hes. Works and Days 225–226 403
CTH 811 606, 607, 609 Hes. Works and Days 280–281 403
CTH 812 606, 607, 609, 610 HHCTO 1 obv. 6–7 369
CTH 813 606, 608 HKM 1 lower edge 8–9 378
CTH 819 609 HKM 19 obv. 5–8 369
HKM 21 obv. 9–13 367
Demetrius Eloc. 141 478 HKM 25 obv. 4–5, 22–25 374
Der Prozeß gegen GAL-DU und seinen Vater HKM 36 obv. 6–7 378
Ukkura see CTH 293 HKM 46 rev. 15–16 338
Diod(orus Siculus) 3.59.8 5766 HKM 49 rev. 18–21 368
HKM 58:15–18 375
Emar 261 532 HKM 60 obv. 4–14 375
Emar 271 = Msk 7471 532, 533 HKM 66 obv. 5–7 370
Emar 446 539 HKM 70 Vs. 4–12 377
Emar 463 (20’) 536 HKM 73 obv. 3–4 375
Emar 471 532 Hom. Il. 5.656–657 401
Emar 471, 19 533 Hom. Il. 5.774 407
Emar 471, 30–33 536 Hom. Il. 6.140 587
Emar 472 535 Hom. Il. 6.200 587
Emar 472, 32 533, 535 Hom. Il. 10.252 400
Emar 472, 36’ 533 Hom. Il. 11.124 403
Emar 472, 44’ 533 Hom. Il. 20.138 407
Emar 474, 5 533 Hom. Il. 20.268 403
Emar 475 (1’, 3’, 5’) 536 Hom. Od. 6.53 48044
Emar 486 (3’) 536 Hom. Od. 13.108 48044
EMIRGAZI altars 50, 51, 52, 53 Hom. Od. 21.144 206
Entsühnungsritual für Tutḫaliya und Hygin(us) Fab. 274.6 576
Nikalmati see CTH 443
ERKILET 1 and 2 48 IBoT 2.115++ obv. 8–12, 15–18 46218
Eur(ipides) Bacch. 1350 409
Eur. Cyc. 264 288 JISR EL HADID 4 §2 5203

KARAHÖYÜK §§1, 2, 9, 10, 12, 13, 16, 24 36012 KBo 11.14 Vs. I 19 5026
KARATEPE bilingual 52, 54, 57, 58 KBo 14.16 III 31 556
KARKAMIŠ A2(+3), §§1–9 52, 55 KBo 15.33+ iii 20–22 372
KARKAMIŠ A6 528 KBo 16.1+ ΙΙ 29–41 5452
KARKAMIŠ A6 §31 518, 519, 520, 527, 529 KBo 17.1 i 9–12 32731
KARKAMIŠ A7 §14 5192 KBo 18.6:9’, 19’, 26’ 44123
KARKAMIŠ A13c1 576 KBo 18.54 rev. 9–15 368
KARKAMIŠ A15b1 576 KBo 18.69 rev. 6′–8′ 369
KARKAMIŠ A15e1 576 KBo 18.86 552, 554, 557, 55824
KARKAMIŠ A18e3 576 KBo 19.53 iii(?) 5’ 55113
KARKAMIŠ A20a1 48 KBo 19.73+ rev. iii 26–27, 342
KARKAMIŠ A21.1 576 KBo 19.79 4715
KARKAMIŠ A23.2, 5 576 KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52 obv. ii 7–8 538
KARKAMIŠ A24a2+3 48 KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52 obv. ii 20 538
KARKAMIŠ A25a.3 576 KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52 obv. ii 21 538
KARKAMIŠ A30h §3 202 KBo 20.99+KBo 21.52 obv. ii 22 538
KARKAMIŠ A31.3 576 KBo 20.101 Rs.? 3 281
KAYSERİ §8 520 KBo 21.20 613, 614
KBo 1.10 605 KBo 21.20 obv. 16’–18’ 613
KBo 1.10 Rev. 34–41 604 KBo 21.42 rev. vi 5’ 4362, 439
KBo 1.10 Rev. 42–48 604 KBo 22.2 Vs. 13–14 33044
KBo 2.3 i 31–33 372 KBo 22.6 i 7 43710
KBo 3.4 obv. II 3 5452 KBo 22.118, r. Kol. 9’–10’ 508
KBo 3.4 II 54–56 5463 KBo 24.126 obv. 27–31 278–279
KBo 3.4 II 67–68 5463 KBo 24.126 obv. 28 277, 278, 279, 2806
KBo 3.4 II 73 5463 KBo 24.126 obv. 29 281
KBo 4.2+ obv. 27–30, 33–36 46219 KBo 28.25 9’ 55724, 55824
KBo 4.4 II 49 325 KBo 29.1 iv 3’ 5013
KBo 4.10+ 512 KBo 30.144 rev. 4’ 44123
KBo 4.10+ Rs. 28 512, 514 KBo 31.4+ 502, 5027
KBo 4.10+ Rs. 29 512, 513, 514 KBo 31.6 iii 17’ 5013
KBo 4.10+ Rs. 30 514 KBo 31.25 i 8’ 5015
KBo 4.10+ Rs. 31 513 KBo 34.195 rev. 2’ 43917
KBo 4.10+ Rs. 32 512 KBo 39.8 i 34–37 371
KBo 4.14 obv. ii 30–31, 336 KBo 39.8 ii 18–20 372
KBo 5.3+ iv 34–36 376 KBo 40.345 rev. iv 4’] 44018
KBo 5.3+ i 38–40 374 KBo 42.1 rev. iv 9’ 43917
KBo 5.4 rev. 31–32 348 KBo 42.28 rev. vi(?) 4’ 4362, 439
KBo 5.13 obv. ii 17’–18’ 347 KBo 45.37 vi 1’[ 44018
KBo 6.13 i 10–11 508 KBo 50.209 552
KBo 6.26 i 18–19 201 KBo 59.111:6’ 44018
KBo 7.28+KBo 8.92 rev. 37’ 43710 KBo 71.52 rev. i 2’ 4363
KBo 7.74+ ii 5 5015 Kn L 474; 224 47314
KBo 8.34+KBo 16.12:9’ 43711 Kn X 976 47315
KBo 10.12 iii 10 279 KÖRKÜN §11 202
KBo 10.20 iii 43, 45 552 Kt 94/k, 821 523
KBo 11.1 obv. 16 348 Kt 99 63
KBo 11.1 rev. 9’ 341 KTU 1.5 592
KBo 11.14 501 KTU 1.5 ii 1–24 592
KBo 11.14 Vs. I 4 5026 KTU 1.5 v 4–17 592

KTU 1.5 v 18–25 592 KUB 13.35+ rev. iii 13 439

KTU 1.5 vi 9, 23 593 KUB 13.35+ Rs. iv 27, 34 503
KTU 1.5 vi 15–1.6 i 29 593 KUB 14.1+ obv. 13–14 (MS) 373
KTU 1.6 i 39–65 593 KUB 14.1+ rev. 28 55316
KTU 1.6 ii 32–35 593 KUB 14.1+ rev. 30 (§24’) 551
KTU 1.6 iii 2, 8, 20 59218 KUB 14.1+ rev. 89 55316
KTU 1.6 iii 12–13 593 KUB 14.3 552, 554
KTU 1.6 iii 22–iv 24 593 KUB 14.3 I 5–52 555
KTU 1.6 v 1–8 593 KUB 14.15+ iii 27’ 5452
KTU 1.6 v 11–19 593 KUB 14.16 III 25’ 547, 564
KTU 1.6 vi 16–35 594 KUB 14.17+ obv. ii 18 336
KTU 1.6 vi 42–53 594 KUB 15.1+ obv. ii 6–8 338
KUB 1.1+ rev. iii 14 344 KUB 16.34 i 8–9 2425
KUB 2.2+ 499, 500 KUB 17.10 i 5–9 588
KUB 2.3 32–33 538 KUB 17.10 i 5–15 598
KUB 4.50 610, 611 KUB 17.10 i 10–12 588
KUB 5.1 i 43 279 KUB 17.10 i 10–20 595
KUB 5.3+ i 8–10 44633 KUB 17.10 i 14–20 588
KUB 5.4+ ii 37–42 44634 KUB 17.10 i 21–29 588
KUB 5.6 i 6–13 472 KUB 17.10 ii 3–32 588
KUB 5.6 i 38’–43’ 534 KUB 17.10 ii 12–14 370
KUB 5.6 iii 3–7 531, 53314 KUB 17.10 ii 33–34 588
KUB 5.11 i 26–27 338 KUB 17.10 ii 33–36 589
KUB 5.24+ obv. ii 13–14 341 KUB 17.10 iii 1–23 589
KUB 6.44+ obv. iv 20–21 341 KUB 17.10 iii 24–27 589
KUB 6.44+ obv. iv 28–29 341 KUB 17.10 iii 29 596
KUB 7.1+ 502, 5027 KUB 17.10 iv 20–26 598
KUB 7.1 iv 16 4362 KUB 17.10 iv 29–34 408
KUB 7.8 i 14–16 373 KUB 17.10 iv 30 200
KUB 7.14 i 1 5013 KUB 19.5 4715
KUB 7.25 rev. 9’ 4362 KUB 19.30 i 17–18 (NH) 408
KUB 8.1 iii 8–9 408 KUB 20.8 rev. vi 8’ 44022
KUB 9.31 iii 48–52 372 KUB 20.96 iv 15 536
KUB 12.63 + 508 KUB 20.99 ii 4 538
KUB 12.63 + KUB 36.70 508 KUB 21.6+ 55213
KUB 13.9+ rev. iii 19’ 349 KUB 21.6a rev. 9’ 55724
KUB 13.33+ iv 7 439 KUB 21.19+ rev. iii 44’–45’ 349
KUB 13.35 rev. iv 15 348–349 KUB 21.19+ rev. iv 18’–20 341
KUB 13.35+ 503, 5039, 512 KUB 21.38 45052
KUB 13.35+ i 1 513 KUB 21.38 obv. 22’ 439, 45052
KUB 13.35+ i 38 439, 513 KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 7–8 345
KUB 13.35+ iii 7 512 KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 26–27 337
KUB 13.35+ iii 13 513 KUB 21.42+ rev. iv 38–39 347
KUB 13.35+ iii 15 513 KUB 21.42+KUB 26.12 iv 16–32 44945
KUB 13.35+ iii 20 513 KUB 22.40 iii 16–20 279–280
KUB 13.35+ iii 21 513 KUB 22.40 iii 17/18 281
KUB 13.35+ iii 41 512 KUB 22.40 iii 18 277
KUB 13.35+ iii 42 512 KUB 24.8 iii 4–17 506
KUB 13.35+ iii 43 512 KUB 26.1+ rev. iii 37–38 348
KUB 13.35+ iv 28 514 KUB 26.1+ rev. iii 47–49 349

KUB 26.1+KUB 23.112 i 9–29 44843 KUB 43.57+ iv 23’ 501

KUB 26.18 44844 KUB 43.77 rev. 440
KUB 26.18:8’–12’ 448 KUB 43.77 rev. 3’ 4362, 44021
KUB 26.24+ i 22–26 (MH/NS) 377 KUB 45 53630
KUB 26.29 + KUB 31.55 obv. 7–8 (MS) 377 KUB 45.55 536
KUB 26.43 rev. 31 445 KUB 56.48 Vs. ii 535
KUB 26.43 rev. 32 439, 441 KUB 58.11 Vs. 5 537
KUB 26.43 rev. 34 44019 KUB 58.33 Vs. iii 20 53836
KUB 26.50 rev. 25’[ 439 KUB 58.48, obv. iii 10 538
KUB 26.50 rev. 28 44019 KUB 58.48, obv. iii 12 538
KUB 26.91 471, 4713 KUB 59.60 iii 14 279
KUB 28.88 503, 5038 KULULU 1 §8 202
KUB 29.1 499, 500 KuT 49: 4–5 408
KUB 29.1 iv 10–11 (OH/NS) 408
KUB 30.26 iv 13’–14’ 441 Mahābhārata 5 585, 594
KUB 30.26 iv 14 44018 Mahābhārata 5.10.45–46 585
KUB 30.33 iv 15 439, 43917 Mahābhārata 5.10.46–50 585
KUB 30.48 502, 5027 Mahābhārata 5.14.5–9 585, 594
KUB 30.48 Vs. 5027 Mahābhārata 5.14.5–12 585, 596
KUB 30.55 rev.? 8 5014 Mahābhārata 5.15.5–21 585
KUB 31.5(+) obv. ii 7–8 350 Mahābhārata 5.16.10–20 585
KUB 31.42 obv. ii 2–4 349 Mahābhārata 5.16.14–20 595
KUB 31.68 450 Mahābhārata 5.17.1–19 586
KUB 31.71(+?) obv. ii 24’–27’ 337 Mahābhārata 12 585
KUB 32.9+ 5014 MALATYA 9 36012
KUB 32.129+ 502 Matthew 10:35 288
KUB 32.133 iv 7’-8’ 441 Msk 74176 533
KUB 32.133 iv 8’ 4363 Muwatallis Gebet see CTH 381
KUB 33.5 ii 4–9 588, 595
KUB 33.12 iv 16 (OH/NS) 408 Niş 4 442
KUB 33.19 iii 2–7 598 Niş 5 442
KUB 33.62, 16’, 18’, 19’ 45812 Niş 55 442
KUB 33.68 ii 6 (OH/MS) 371 Niş 56 442
KUB 33.93+ iii 11–20 507 Niş 57 442
KUB 34.99 536 Niş 66 442, 44531
KUB 35.18 5014 Niş 67 442
KUB 35.24+ 5014 Niş 82 442
KUB 35.41 iv 6’ 4362 Niş 83 442
KUB 35.57 i 1 5013 Niş 84 442
KUB 36.12 i 18–19 + KUB 33.113 i 5–6 325 Niş 85 442
KUB 36.83 i 8–15++ 46422 Niş 86 442
KUB 36.90 53316 Niş 138 442
KUB 37.1 611, 612 Niş 139 442
KUB 37.48+ 523 Niş 152 442
KUB 38.10 iv 9 514 Niş 162 4365, 439
KUB 40.83 Vs. 14–17 508 Niş 181 439
KUB 40.96+ iv 8 447 Niş 205 442
KUB 42.94 + HHT 80 rev. 10–11 370 Niş 232 442

Niş 233 442 Plato Euthy. 5d10 4066

Niş 247 44530, 44531 Plato Legg. 847c 47422
Niş 248 44530, 44531 Plato Legg. 925 E 409
Niş 281 4365 Plato Parm. 129b 402
Niş 289 442 Plato Parm. 129b9 402
Niş 292 44123 Plato Parm. 129d6 402
Niş 299 442 Plato Parm. 130b6 402
Niş 305 4365, 439, 442 Plato Phaedo 62d 404
Niş 306 442 Plato Phaedo 74c1 402
Niş 332 442 Plato Phaedo 104a-e 402
Niş 350 442 Plato Symp. 188b 409
Niş 351 442 Plato Symp. 198b 404
Niş 352 442 Plato Tim. 69a 404
Niş 353 442, 44531 Pliny Nat. Hist. 5.93 199
Niş 356 442 Pliny Nat. Hist. 5.101 199
Niş 388 443 Pliny Nat. Hist. 9.69 473
Niş 389 443 Plut(arch) Caes. 9 576
Niş 409 443 Propertius 4.9 586, 596
Niş 412 443, 44531 Ptolemy Geog. V 3, 6 199
Niş 444 443
Niş 485 443 Quintilian Institutio Oratoria I 7–9 210
Niş 489 443
Niş 521 443 Ritual gegen unterirdische Mächte see
Niş 542 443 CTH 447
Niş 562 443 RS 17.231 44531
Niş 597 443 RS 17.231:8–9, 15–16 4365, 439
Niş 604 443 RS 17.231 rev. 9, 16 4363
Niş 618 443 RS 20.212:27’ 439
Niş 622 443 RS 94.2352:5, 19 439
Niş 759 443 RV 1.32 594
Niş 760 443 RV 1.32.1 584
Niş 774 443 RV 1.32.14 584
Niş 775 443 RV 1.63.9 400
RV 3.25.1 400
Oppian Halieutica 3.79–84 474 RV 9.62.2 400
Oppian Halieutica 3.81 4004, 475
Or. 90/431+, l. 8 55316 SAG 1 437
Or. 90/1299 55317 SAG 2 437
Or. 90/1299, ll. 21–24 553 Sappho fr. 5 480
Or. 90/1600+, l. 64’ 55316 Sappho fr. 30 478
Or. 93/20, l. 6 55316 Sappho fr. 44.9 478
Or. 93/20, l. 13 55316 Sappho fr. 44.24 478
Sappho fr. 94 476, 47937
Paulus ex Festo 501, 6 (L) 210 Sappho fr. 98(b).3 478
P(indar) 4.126 408 Sappho fr. 101 476, 477, 47937, 480
P. 4.246 408 Sappho fr. 103(a) 478
Plato Alcib. I 109c 404 Sappho fr. 105 478
Plato Crat. 424d 47421 Šaušgamuwa-Vertrag see CTH 105

SBo II 80 44530, 44531 Thucydides 1.58.1 401

SBo II 81 44530, 44531 Thucydides 1.88 404
SBo II 92 443 Thucydides 1.132.6 403
SBo II 138 442 Thucydides 4.1 404
SBo II 147 442 Thucydides 4.88.1 401
SBo II 215 442 TL 26 384
SBo II 232 44531 TL 26:15 384
Soph(ocles) fr. 504 47422, 47423 TL 86 383
Soph. Philoc. 434 403 TL 112:1, 2, 3 383
Strabo 7.3.18 47524 TL 112:2 383
Strabo XIII 631 199 TOPADA 51, 54
Strabo 16.2.23 478 TOPADA (§§3, 7, 13, 23, 26) 359
SÜDBURG §7 55215 Tyrtaeus 7.26 403
SULTANHAN §7 202
SULTANHAN §15 202 VAT 8258 = KAI 71 Vs. 5–6. 52411
SULTANHAN §23 202 VAT 13019b rev. ii 440
SULTANHAN §28 525 VBoT 12+:6’ 44123
SUVASA 51
Xanthos Stele 44a, 53 55723
TA.08.E.1 obv. 24–27 (NS) 370 Xenophanes fr. 3 IEG2 47318
TC 2 54 Rs. 8 523 Xenophanes fr. 3.3 IEG2 480
Telipinu-Erlass see CTH 19
TELL AHMAR §§24, 29 284 Yasna 48, 7 b-c 217
TELL AHMAR 1, §24 457 Yašt 8, 9 b–d 217
TELL AHMAR 6 §32 5203 Yašt 13, 11 f-g 217

Index of Place Names
Aba[…] 555 Babylon 253, 385, 524, 527, 528,

Abaša 544, 545, 548, 5485, 5486, 549, 550, 529, 604
551, 558, 566 Babylonia 447, 527, 604, 610
Acco 88 Bademgediği Tepe 550, 551
Acemhöyük 26, 27 Beirut 39
Acropolis 282 Benešov nad Ploučnicí 14, 38
Adriya 555, 556, 557 Beth-Shean 82, 85
Ager Romanus 5851 Beth-Shemesh 86
Aḫḫiyawa 471, 4713, 472, 547, 55824, 56433, Beqa Valley 88
566, 55824 Beycesultan 2545
Aiolis 385 Bithynia 385, 386
Akar Çay 547 Boğazköy 2545, 45, 46, 471, 572, 575, 605
Alabanda 5509 Bolvadın 5509, 55317, 555
Alalakh 24, 2442, 47210 Borsippa 524
Alašiya 55824 Boz Dağ 563
Aleppo 32, 37, 48, 526 Burgaz 560, 561, 562, 56229, 564
Alinda 555, 556 Büyükkale 2545, 605, 610
Alişar 1213 Bybassius Gulf 558
Altıntepe 57 Byblos 66, 88
Ama[…] 555
Amorion 555 Canaan 81, 82, 8217, 83, 84, 85, 86, 8643, 87
Amos 557 Cappadocia 531, 540, 54040, 541, 573
Ankara (Angora) 8, 12, 16, 17, 48, 123, 573, Caria 385, 386, 387, 391, 544, 5509, 55418, 555,
5732, 574, 575, 576 556, 557, 558, 559, 56230, 56434, 566
Ankuwa 280, 385 Caucasus 195, 586
Annaššara 552, 55724, 55824 Ceramic Gulf 558
Apamea 555 Chersonesos 556, 558, 559, 565, 566
Aphek 83, 86, 88 Chios 566
Aqhat 590 Cilicia 199, 385, 388, 3886, 430, 5486
Arinna 235, 239, 280, 341, 53317, 53420, 53733 Colophon 47212, 47318
Arinnanda 544, 545, 546, 548, 5486, 549, Constantinople 6, 45
5497, 550, 5508, 551, 558, 559, 55925, 560, Crete 63, 64, 473
564, 565 Cyprus 652, 55824
Arpad 525, 52513 Cythera 480
Arzawa 458, 544, 545, 546, 5463, 5474, 548, Çine Çayı 555
553, 554, 557, 566
Ashkelon 86, 88 Dalaman Çayı 56434
Assur 523, 526 Damascus 37, 38
Aštarpa 547, 5508 Danuna 55824
Aštata 472, 531, 533, 534 Datça 558, 560, 561, 564, 56434
Attarimma 544, 545, 5452, 5485, 551, 552, Delos 385
553, 55316, 55317, 554, 55418, 555, 556, Delphi 47318
557, 55724, 558, 55824, 560, 563, 566 Denizli 555
Attica 3919 Dilek 548
Aventine 596 Dilmun 521

670 Index of Place Names
Dinar 555 Ḫubišna 552
Dīrītum 522 Ḫurma 441, 444, 446, 501, 502
Ḫurranašši 55214
Eber Gölü 5509, 55317, 555 Ḫuršanašša 544, 545, 5452, 5485, 551, 554,
Emar 56, 86, 8641, 523, 531, 532, 533, 534, 535, 556, 557, 558
536, 537, 539, 541 Ḫuršannašši 552
Emecik 562
Ephesus 480, 544, 545, 548, 549, 550, 551, 558 Idrias 555, 556
Epiphania 199 Inaššara 55724, 55824
Erciyes Dağ 8 Indos 56434
Euphrates 45, 472, 522 Indus Valley 70
Ionia 385, 386, 387, 545, 548, 550, 558
Fethiye 554 Isin 522
Israel 86
Gath 85 Istanbul 7, 13, 48, 81
Gaza 82, 84
Gergis 5509 Jericho 72, 79
Gergithes 5509 Jezre’el Valley 78, 79, 83, 88
Gezer 83, 86 Jordan Valley 88
Girsu 521
Gökova 558 Kaikos 476
Gömeç 14 Kaikos Valley 4714
Gordion 555, 571, 572, 573, 574, 575, 5755, 576, Kanawat 36
577, 5777, 578, 579 Kandyba 56434
Gurgum 46 Kaneš 12, 81, 47210
Kara-Eyuk 8
Halab 534 Karahöyük 7, 119, 14
Halicarnassus 5509, 556 Karatepe 54
Hama 45 Karkamiš 45, 46, 52, 56, 513, 518, 519, 527,
Hamath 46 52714, 573, 574, 575, 576, 577
Harran 5474 Karia see Caria
Hashöyük 61 Karkiša 5509
Hauran Area 32, 36, 37 Kaška (region) 370, 437
Hermos 476 Kaunos 557
Hermos Valley 4714, 476 Kayseri area 5, 6, 109, 119, 48
Himalaya 594 Kayster 547
Hisarönü 558 Kelainai 555
Höyük Tepe 109 Kerkenes Dağ 573, 575, 577, 578
Ḫarḫarwa 533, 534 Kindye 56434
Ḫattarina 535 Kizzuwatna 390, 500, 534, 536
Ḫatti 231, 336, 377, 437, 450, 53313, 553, 6032, Knidian peninsula 558, 55824, 55925, 560
604 Knidos 559, 560, 561, 562, 563, 564, 565, 566
Ḫattuša 56, 8641, 336, 377, 444, 446, 455, 471, Knossos 24, 63, 65, 73, 473
494, 512, 513, 515, 522, 523, 528, 533, 546, Kos 566
5474, 55925, 603, 6031, 604, 6047, 6073, Ktk 525
608, 611, 612, 614, 615 Kültepe 1, 5, 63, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 25,
Ḫazor 83, 85, 86, 87 2645, 27, 28, 81
Ḫinduwa 56434 Kummanni 502

Index of Place Names 671
Kumme 507 Mytilene 473
Kummiya 507
Kumyer 56229 Nerik 439, 440, 444, 446, 493, 494, 531, 532,
Kuşaklı 25 533, 53316, 53317, 534, 53420, 535, 53520,
Kuu̯ alii̯a 199 53522, 53524, 536, 537, 539
Kybistra 552 Nisyros 55824
Kyme 38
Oenianda 199
Lake Maeotis 47524 Oeniandos 199
Laodicea 555 Ortaköy 553
Lauwanda 35912
Lazpa 469, 470, 471, 4715, 472, 476, 478, 55824 Palatine 586, 596
Lesbos 385, 469, 470, 471, 4712, 4713, 472, 473, Palmyra 37
476, 478, 479, 47940, 480, 55824 Pamphylia 385, 386, 416
Levant 8115, 87, 88, 221, 473, 55824 Pariyana 5509
Liḫzina 490, 493, 49523 Paršuḫanda 359, 36013
Limyra 383 Parzuta 359
Lōandos 35912 Pedassa 55316, 572
Locris 386 Peloponnese 64
Loryma 556, 557 Phaistos 24
Lukka 554, 555, 557, 55724 Phocaea 469, 470, 476, 478
Lycaonia 552 Phoinix 55724
Lycia 385, 388, 389, 391, 545, 5486, 552, 554, Phrygia 547, 571, 572, 573, 574, 575, 576, 577,
555, 56434 578, 579
Lydia 385, 386, 473 Piḫilu 85
Lyrbe 418, 424, 427 Pisidia 386, 430, 554
Lysá nad Labem 38 Polybotos 5509, 55317, 555
Priene 5509
Macedonia 386 Puranda 544, 545, 546, 5463, 547, 5474, 548,
Maeotis see Lake Maeotis 5486, 5497, 550, 5508, 551, 558, 559,
Malia 24 55926, 560, 563, 56331, 564, 565, 566
Mancusun 14 Pylos 64, 65, 70, 56434
Maraş 45, 46 Pyrindos 559, 560, 562, 56229, 56230, 563, 566
Mari 522, 523
Marsyas Valley 555, 566 Ras Shamra 56, 57
Maşat Höyük 2545 Reşadiye 558
Meander 549 Rhodes 55824
Megiddo 78, 79, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86
Memphis 96 Sais 98
Meskene 56, 57, 59 Salur 13
Mesopotamia 2, 79, 81, 86, 455, 456, 603, Sam’al/Zincirli 524, 525, 575, 579
6047, 606, 614 Samos 566
Milawanda 471, 4715, 549 Samothrace 38
Miletus 471, 549, 5508, 555 Samsun Dağı 548
Mira 199, 512, 572 Saqqâra 96
Mycale 548, 5497, 551, 558 Sarikaya 26, 27
Myra 383 Scythia Minor 385
Mysia 386, 387 Sfire 518, 525

672 Index of Place Names
Sheikh Saʿad 1, 11, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 40 Tiwadašša 55113
Side 416, 417, 418, 424, 427 Tlos 384, 552, 554, 557, 55724, 55824
Sigeion 473 Triopion 561, 56229
Sindhu 56434 Troad 4712, 473, 5509
Sippar 522, 5227, 524 Troy 473, 475
Sirkeli Höyük 35912 Turmitta 552
Smyrna 480, 5508 Tuwana 46
Sultantepe 435 Tyana 577
Surb Karapet 6–7, 10 Tyanitis 45
Syrna 557, 565
Şıhlar 424 Ugarit 56, 65, 82, 83, 8538, 86, 8641, 8643, 472,
Šakduna 552 522, 590, 591, 592, 594, 598, 600
Šakdunuwa 552 Ulster 586
Šallaba 555 Ur 521
Šapinuwa 375 Ura 37733
Šechem 79
Šeḫa River Land 471, 4714, 476, 548 Waliwanda 5509, 555
Šuruda 544, 545, 5452, 5485, 551, 554, 557, Walk(u)wanda 552, 55317
558, 560, 563, 565, 566 Warshama Palace 5, 18, 19, 24, 25, 26, 27
Wiluša 471, 4715
Tabal 520, 525
T(a)lawa 552, 554, 557, 55824, 56434 Xanthos 199, 554, 55723
Tall Rifa’at 108, 11 Xanthus Valley 554
Tarḫuntašša 449, 450, 5474
Tekir 559, 560, 561, 56229, 563, 56433 Yalanda 555, 556, 557, 566
Tel(e)messos 554, 555, 556 Yozgat 541
Tel Rehob 82
Tell Atchana 47210 Zagros 195, 196
Tell Erfad 1, 32, 37, 38, 40 Zaliyanu 533, 53316, 534, 53420
Tell Taʿanach 1, 11, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 87 Zalpuwa Land 4577
Telos 55824 Zaphon 593
Terqa 522 Zincirli see Sam’al/Zincirli
Thessaly 72, 386 Zippalanda 531, 53420, 536, 552,
Thrace 385 55214

Subject Index
Aegean writing systems 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 73 Caro-Egyptian 114

affricate 100 Caromemphite 95, 96, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102,
Akkadian 46, 78, 80, 81, 84, 85, 8538, 8640, 107, 110, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118
123, 133, 149, 165, 169, 221, 259, 325, 366, Caspian Sea 195
435, 4562, 4717, 4718, 532, 533, 535, 541, Caucasian 204, 223, 411
542, 603, 605, 606, 607, 608, 610, 611, “centum” language 261, 263
612, 613 clitic 120, 124, 125, 127
Akkadogram 126 collective 203, 272, 27211, 285, 28516, 295, 296,
allative 153, 303 297, 300, 304, 305, 306, 308, 309, 310, 311,
allophone 148, 173, 354, 356, 361, 362, 421, 312, 313, 396, 397, 399, 400, 401, 402, 404,
47735 406, 409, 410
Amarna Age/period 85, 86 compound 97, 98, 1099, 111, 114, 126, 200, 206,
Amarna corpus 87 207, 209, 211, 28311, 301, 388
Amarna letters 81, 84, 85, 88 corpus 45, 58–59, 78, 79, 87, 88, 95, 96, 97,
Amarna tablets 86 98, 99, 101, 102, 1099, 114, 120, 121, 122,
anaptyxis 206, 306 124, 126, 127, 1286, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134,
Annals of Muršili 270, 325, 3424, 437, 550, 135, 136, 13714, 143, 144, 259, 268, 272,
553, 554, 556, 563 336, 342, 3424, 345, 351, 382, 383,
anthroponym 382, 383, 384, 388, 390, 391, 389, 3898, 417, 419, 449, 504, 510, 511,
510 603, 605, 606, 607, 608, 609,
aphaeresis 556 615
Arawakan 116 Cretan Hieroglyphic 63, 641, 68, 73, 75
asīru-men 83 Cypriot syllabary 641, 65, 652
assimilation 1481, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161, 162, Čop’s Law 202, 214, 262, 264, 2643
163, 164, 165, 171, 297, 32732, 47735, 55214
“defective notation” 95, 96, 118
Babylonian 46, 80, 84, 85, 8535, 179, 221, 3852, deixis 365, 366, 371, 373, 375, 376, 378, 379
386, 387, 392, 521, 522, 523, 5239, 524, dental 147, 148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 155, 157, 159,
527, 6047, 608, 613, 614 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168,
Bahuvrihi 514 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 261, 266, 299,
Basque 641 321, 323, 555, 556, 55622, 557
Bel Madgalti 534 determinative 124, 128, 131, 277, 278, 407,
Bella Coola language 101, 116 435, 436, 458, 501, 537
Black Sea 195, 47420 directive 303
Bronze Age 5, 12, 32, 37, 73 dissimilation 206, 209, 267, 300, 307
bullae 21, 22 dorsal 261, 263
Byblos script 66 ductus 84, 85, 35910, 428
Canaanism 84 Early Bronze Age 2749

Canaano-Akkadian 84, 8539 Early Iron Age 32
Cappadocian tablets 5, 11, 12 ejective 148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157,
Carian 95, 96, 982, 99, 105, 107, 1099, 112, 113, 159, 160, 162, 164, 165, 166, 167, 170, 172,
114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 386, 387, 392, 555, 173
556, 557, 558, 559, 56230, 56434, 566 enclitic 124, 340, 350, 351
Carians 479 epenthesis 116, 357

674 Subject Index
epithet 43710, 461 Indo-Aryan 88, 8851, 305, 306

Etruscan 70, 114, 195, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, “initial-a final” 259
210, 222, 223, 228 Iron Age 37, 58
evocation ritual 484, 4852, 489, 49117, 493, 495
ex oriente lux 67 jandarma 14
excrescent vowel 116, 117, 118
Kaneshite state 24
Faliscan 205, 206, 207, 208, 210, 211, 218, 222 koine 85
focus 237, 238, 254 Kudurru 522, 527
fortis 148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 156, 158, 159, *ku̯ etu̯ óres rule 200
160, 161, 162, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169,
170, 172, 173, 214, 421 labiovelar 117, 160, 169, 555
fortition 202, 320 Lak language 17056
“Frakturhyphen” 124 laryngeal 149, 156, 157, 160, 163, 164, 203, 204,
frame 232, 233, 246, 254 212, 216, 219, 261, 262, 264, 267, 397,
fricatives 100, 101, 105, 115, 196, 419 56434
fronting 99, 47735 Late Bronze Age 78, 83, 84, 86, 87, 88, 469,
479, 531, 535, 544, 572, 614
gâvur 109 Latin 100, 115, 17160, 195, 199, 205, 206, 207,
Generative Phonology 116 208, 209, 210, 211, 222, 287, 290, 318,
Gilgamesh 84, 86 32525, 327, 3664, 397, 4004, 404, 584
Glossenkeil 282, 32629 Lemnian 70
glottalization 160, 163, 164 lenition 168, 169, 262, 27211
Greco-Roman period 20 lenis 148, 149, 154, 156, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162,
164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173,
ḫanaku-men 83 202
hapax 259, 271, 421, 480, 520 Leti 16751
hatrae-class (Hittite verbs) 182 Lex Čop see Čop’s Law
Hatti 45, 46, 336, 471, 4713, 532, 53210, 533, Linear A 62, 63, 641, 67, 73, 75
544, 55317, 572, 59217 Linear B 62, 63, 64, 652, 67, 68, 70, 73, 74,
Hattic 281, 45812, 53520, 536, 537, 539, 587, 75
598 lingua franca 136
Hesychius 203, 212, 216, 218, 474, 47523, 47524 Lion Wall 33
heteroclitic 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, liquid 65, 97, 100, 101, 104, 105, 107, 109, 112,
302, 303, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 113, 115, 117, 118, 536, 556
312, 313 litterae francae 85
ḫi-conjugation 154 Livius Andronicus 205, 209, 210
hiatus 97, 98 loanword 166, 167, 168, 183, 195, 208, 210, 222,
hieroglyphs 44, 45, 46, 50, 57, 58, 59, 65, 66, 355, 3552, 419, 469
67, 73 logogram 46, 124, 132, 133, 221, 279, 280, 2806,
homonymy 1328, 321, 32841, 3589 281, 290, 389, 436, 577, 606
Hurrian 78, 86, 87, 88, 8851, 531, 533, 535, Luwian (Luvian) 1, 44, 45, 47, 48, 57, 58, 59,
536, 537, 539, 574, 613, 614 65, 118, 176, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202,
hypocoristic 510 213, 214, 222, 223, 277, 278, 279, 281, 282,
hypostasis 195, 198, 200, 212, 216, 214, 216, 283, 285, 290, 306, 327, 329, 354, 386,
217, 220, 222, 295, 302, 303, 472, 480 388, 389, 390, 391, 392, 404, 452, 457,
469, 4718, 477, 479, 47940, 518, 556,
ī-mutation 201, 202, 213, 278 55925, 56331, 571, 572, 575, 577, 579, 607,
Indictment of Madduwatta 3424, 37423, 551, 611, 612, 615
55316, 556, 56434 Luwians 201, 285, 479

Subject Index 675
Lycian 1, 96, 118, 199, 263, 2643, 265, 267, 268, “Pelasgian solution” 70
285, 320, 382, 383, 384, 385, 386, 387, Phaistos Disc 641, 7313
388, 3887, 389, 390, 391, 392, 404, 555, phonotactics 96
55622, 55723, 55724, 55925, 56434 Phrygian 28619, 391, 540, 541, 571, 572,
Lycians 285, 387, 479, 554, 55723 573, 574, 575, 576, 577, 578,
Lydian 265, 404, 422, 548 579
Lydians 47318, 479 “piano nobile” 24
pidgin 85
mariannu 82 Piro language 116
Memphis-Saqqâra subcorpus 95 pottery 20, 2138, 32, 39, 72, 572,
metaphor 317, 318, 319, 323, 32317, 325, 328, 577, 578
329, 32942, 330, 455, 460, 466, 475, 589 preglottalic 156, 157, 162, 168
‘Mid-century Report’ 68 propylaeum 25
Middle Babylonian 84, 85 prothesis 360
Middle Bronze Age 2749, 84 Proto-Harappan script 70
Milyan 118, 384, 389 Proto-Indus script 65, 67, 70
Minoan 24, 62, 63, 652, 70, 74 “pseudo-Hieroglyphic” 66
morphosyntax 84
Moroccan Arabic 17056 Ramesside period 87
Murašû Archive 385 resonant 161, 165, 172, 173, 174, 215 see also
Mycenaean 62, 65, 654, 74, 195, 203, 211, 221, sonorant
222, 223, 55316, 56433
Sanskrit 101
Náprstek Museum 12, 38 “Saussure-Hirt effect” 264
nasal 97, 100, 101, 104, 105, 107, 109, 112, 113, Saussure’s Law 203, 204, 219
115, 117, 118, 208, 214, 222, 258, 261, 265, scriptio plena 2675, 356
266, 268, 271, 299, 300, 306, 311, 321, shibboleth 296
32732, 557 schema Alcmanicum 407
Neolithic 72, 195, 196 schema Pindaricum 407, 408
nomen agentis 195 schwa 116, 118, 354, 356, 357, 358
Schwebeablaut 212, 217, 222
Old Babylonian 84, 85 Sidetic 1, 416, 417, 418, 419, 421, 423, 427,
onomastics 78, 87, 382, 383, 389, 391, 393, 430, 431
394, 509, 510, 513, 516, 517 sonorant 107, 258, 265 see also resonant
orthostat 32, 33, 37, 573, 5732, 574, 575, 576, sonority hierarchy 98, 100, 101
578 sonority sequencing 100
Oscan 205, 206, 207, 221, 222 Sonority Sequencing Generalization 118
Osthoff’s Law 215 Stang’s Law 217
Ottoman Empire 10 storm-god 53420, 583, 591, 59217, 598, 599
Sturtevant’s Law 149, 261, 320, 32011
Palaic 263, 265, 267, 404 substrate 524, 598
palatalization 219 Sumerogram 124, 126, 135, 196, 197, 198, 201,
palatovelar 263, 47735 456
Pamphylian 55622 Swiss German 16751
“πάντα ῥεῖ” construction 398 syllable typology 100
parsing 97, 98, 99, 1099, 110, 111, 112, syncope 204, 206, 209, 263, 266, 267
113, 115 Szemerényi’s Law 309, 312
Patronym 205, 206, 430
Pattani Malay 16751 “τὰ ζῷα τρέχει rule” 396, 398, 402, 407
Paulus ex Festo 210 Tabasaran 17056

676 Subject Index
tagging 120, 121, 122, 123, 125, 126, 127, 128, Umbrian 205, 207, 208, 209, 211, 222
129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 137, 139, 141, 143
“Tarkondemos” seal 46 Via Maris 79
Tashlhiyt Berber 17056 Völkerwanderungen 74
temenos 63 vowel breaking 197, 214, 215
terracotta 20, 23, 38 vr̥ddhi 219, 312, 31254
theonym 209, 4295, 510
timbre 95, 118 Wackernagel element 230, 231, 232, 233, 235,
topic 232, 233, 235, 236, 254 238, 239, 240, 254
toponym 10, 45, 46, 199, 200, 354, 358, 359, West Semitic 84, 85, 8538, 86, 87–88
35911, 35912, 360, 36012, 36013, 384, 390, wh-words 336
545, 5474, 550, 55113, 557, 55723, 558,
55925, 562, 56434 Zukrum 534
Tsez language 411
Türk Tarih Kurumu (Turkish Historical
Society) 1726

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Hrozný and Hittite: The First Hundred Years

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/chan

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Names: Kim, Ronald I., editor. | Mynářová, Jana, editor. | Pavúk,

Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands.

This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

1 Hrozný’s Excavations at Kültepe and the Resurrection of a Bronze Age

2 Hrozný’s Excavations, 1924–1925: Sheikh Sa’ad, Tell Erfad 32

3 Hrozný and the Decipherment of Hieroglyphic Luwian 44

4 Bedřich Hrozný and the Aegean Writing Systems: An Early

5 A Fruitful Collaboration between E. Sellin and B. Hrozný during His

6 Consonant Clusters, Defective Notation of Vowels and Syllable Structure

7 Tagging and Searching the Hittite Corpus 120

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

8 The Phonetics and Phonology of the Hittite Dental Stops 147

9 Über die hethitische 3. Sg. Präsens auf -ia-Iz-zi 176

10 The Word for Wine in Anatolian, Greek, Armenian, Italic, Etruscan,

12 Hittite Historical Phonology after 100 Years (and after

13 duttarii̯ata/i- and Some Other Indo-European

14 One Century of Heteroclitic Inflection 295

15 From Experiential Contact to Abstract Thought: Reflections on Some

16 Hittite Syntax 100 Years Later: The Case of Hittite Indefinite

17 Das unerwartete <u> in der altassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung

18 The Personal Deictic Function of Hittite kāša, kāšma and kāšat(t)a:

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

20 The Indo-European Feminine, the Neuter, and the Diagnostic Value of

21 Sidetisch – Ein Update zu Schrift und Sprache 416

22 The LÚ.MEŠ SAG and Their Rise to Prominence 435

23 Virginity in Hittite Ritual 455

25 A Problem of Meaning: Variations in Hittite Landscape as Narrated in

26 „Fehler“ und Fehlschreibungen in hethitischen Texten 499

27 Personennamen der hethitischen Großreichszeit als Quellen religiöser

28 Die Gottheit Nikarawa in Karkamiš 518

29 From Nerik to Emar 531

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

30 The Last Foothold of Arzawa: The Location of Puranda and Mount

31 Phrygia and the Near East 571

32 The Disappearance of Telipinu in the Context of Indo-European

33 Foreign Medical Knowledge in Ḫattuša: The Transmission and

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

AnOr Analecta Orientalia (Roma)

AS Assyriological Studies (Chicago)

AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

AfO Archiv für Orientforschung

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

In December 1915, a 36-year-old Czech librarian at the University of Vienna by

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��20 | doi:10.1163/9789004413122_002

on problems of Indo-European historical-comparative grammar in which Hit-

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

Hrozný’s Excavations at Kültepe and the

Kültepe – Acemhöyük – Hrozný – Anatolia – Minoan – Middle Bronze Age – Old

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��20 | doi:10.1163/9789004413122_003

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

4 Chantre 1898: 74.

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

5 Chantre 1898: 77.

Ronald I. Kim, Jana Mynářová, and Peter Pavúk - 978-90-04-41312-2

a ntiquity. A second case of an apparent coincidence between the two plans

I am grateful to Jeffrey Blossom of the Harvard University Center for Geographic

German excavations here, 1906–1912, garnered among other discoveries a mas-